The Traveler's Secret
by eternalangelkiss
Summary: It’s 1940 and Paris has just fallen to the Nazi Regime. England now stands alone. A weary traveler, carrying a dangerous secret, comes to England seeking help from Albus Dumbledore. Can Dumbledore protect the traveler and his secret?Some violence no slash
1. Chapter 1

The Traveler's Secret

CHAPTER 1: DARK TIMES

Rain shimmered and thudded down on the cold, gray London street. The melody of the water was occasionally broken by the slosh of people's footsteps as they walked down the boulevard, with their coats wrapped tightly around their bodies, and their faces turned to the ground. People went along their solitary path through the storm without saying a word to anyone they passed.

_The foreboding silence was a sign of the dark times,_ thought the cloaked man.

He stood on the dimly lit corner, squinting through the varying veils of murky rain. His penetrating blue eyes remained focused on the little pub across the street from him, the Leaky Bucket. It's shabby, dull exterior wasn't remarkable, just another establishment trying to survive these tough times. Most people made their way to this dark haven, scurrying out of the cold wind, and steady stream of water. The young man, wrapped in his emerald cloak, pulled it closer to his body. Even though the rain seemed to fall everywhere, but on him, the cold still found a way to get in. He still wasn't sure if it was the blustering night around him, or if it was the icy knot of anticipation and fear that had been building in the deepest pit of his mind.

Anxiously he rocked on the edge of the curb, and he knew he would be pacing soon. It was a nervous habit, but it helped him clear his mind, and he needed as much clarity as he could have. He pulled a tattered newspaper from his cloak, and straightened it out. Oddly enough, rain didn't seem to want to land on that item either. The young man pushed his half-moon spectacles up, which had been teetering precariously on the edge of his long, crooked nose.

His eyes flicked over the front page, sometimes narrowing in focused attention on certain parts. Every few seconds, he would look up at the pub in front of him. After awhile, as the time fell away into the darkening night, the young man found himself pacing, reading the Muggle news, and watching those who entered the tavern. With each new person who entered, he scrutinized every aspect of them from what they wore to the look they had on their faces. He couldn't help, but notice that many were worried, wary or tired. He found his hands had rolled up the paper, and had wrung it like a wet rag.

Albus Dumbledore felt a flutter in his stomach, a bubbling mixture of feelings. Tonight was the night that could change everything, even change the course of this horrible war. But danger stalked about the area, he could sense it. It felt as if hope was being sucked out of the very air around him. As hope drained away, anxiety permeated the black night. An electric charge of it glistened in every raindrop that fell.

And that's when Albus Dumbledore saw the man who brought hope in such dark and uncertain times. The newcomer was stocky, with a thick chest and a face covered with dark hair. Large black eyes searched the street around him as he headed towards the Leaky Bucket. He was on his guard, that much was certain. The man yanked his large fur cloak closer to his body. Maybe he too felt the deathly cold of change that was coming.

Albus Dumbledore stopped his nervous pacing, and watched this individual, his senses attuned and ready. His fear was gone, and all that was left was his resolve. What this traveler had, what he carried with him would change the world for better or worse. Albus had to be ready to face the whirlwind that would surely come with that change.

When the man reached the pub door, he swept the area around him with his eyes once more, and pushed his way through the black entrance. Dumbledore tossed his newspaper into the nearby trashcan, and strode across the street towards the Leaky Bucket.

The newspaper lay open, its front page and large print staring up at any passersby. The headline read in bold letters: PARIS OCCUPIED! Below the headline was a black and white picture of Adolph Hitler and his entourage marching down a street with the Eiffel tower looming in the background. Printed in small letters in the corner of the paper was the date: June 25, 1940.

But it hadn't been the headline, or the picture that had grabbed Dumbledore's attention. It was the young, blond haired man who was at the German dictator's side. Though a grim, taunt smile stretched the muscles of the young man's face, making him barely recognizable from whom he use to be, Dumbledore still remembered him.

Grindelwald was now on the cover of a Muggle newspaper, openly helping an aggressor, who was determined to see the world burn.

Dumbledore knew what he must do. He had allowed Grindelwald too much leniency, and had paid for it tenfold. Now Albus had a chance to act, had an opportunity to set things right, and this traveler was the first step in thwarting the overly aggressive enemy. Albus stepped through the door of the Leaky Bucket, with a spark of hope.

Sweeping past the trashcan, and skimming across the street, a black hooded figure glided towards the pub. Anyone who it passed felt as if they would never see happiness or sunshine again. Though not everyone could see this hooded creature, they could feel its unearthly chill.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: THE LEAKY BUCKET

The Leaky Bucket was an unknown, dusty place except to those who frequented its lonely interior. It was owned by a Tom Sr. who had a knack for keeping everything extremely neat and clean. He also had a knack for knocking heads together when anyone tried to disturb the peace he and his father before him had created. To him, this was a place where warring sides could meet, have a drink and sign a treaty. He really did believe that the world was a mess of misunderstandings, though lately that idea of his had been tested greatly. This war that Germany was bringing on everyone's doorstep seemed to be less and less a war that can be soothed by a truce.

Tom Sr. had a son, Tom Jr., who was slightly hunchbacked and a quiet child. Most patrons of Tom's establishment found that odd things seemed to happen around Tom Jr. What they didn't know was that Tom Jr. was a wizard. Of course Tom Sr. knew this, even though it had been quite a shock when he had learned of the fact. He had expected to pass his pub down to his son, and now that plan seemed to be in jeopardy. Tom was not overly enthusiastic about his son being a wizard, but he had grown to accept it as best he could. Tom Jr. was his only son, and after his wife died, the only one he would have.

But his son's ability did open Tom's eyes to this new world he had discovered. His pub, which sat in the heart of London, though not well known, did attract the strangest people. At times he thought he had seen people turn glasses into toads and back, but he had always thought it was his imagination, though he was a man of little creativity. Some would come in dressed in floor length cloaks, and try to pay him in strange overlarge coins. Others would come in wearing the oddest clothing; one man wore a lady's bonnet, a sports coat and a pair of fine pants. Despite the fact that odd people seemed to come in a lot, Tom never said a word, just gave them their drinks, and let them be. So long as they caused no harm, and paid in the right currency, Tom never took notice of this odd behavior. And that was why the Leaky Bucket gained a reputation of attracting the strange type.

So when a tall, lean young man wrapped in an emerald cloak came sweeping through his door on a stormy night, Tom Senior said nothing. He had seen the man before. It had been this man with his half-moon spectacles that had told Tom Sr. the news of his son's peculiarity. Though at first he had regarded the man with unguarded suspicion, Tom Sr. had grown accustomed to him. He would never admit that the man in the emerald cloak had grown on him.

Professor Dumbledore had brought something out of his son, Tom Jr., that Tom Sr. never knew existed; he brought out confidence and joy. Though Tom Sr. was a hard man to please, and often did not say what he felt, he had a soft spot for his only son. It was his departed wife's wish that their son find some peace and acceptance in the world. Tom Jr., never fully accepted in the world that his father lived in due to his physical abnormality, had found a niche in this wizarding world. Professor Dumbledore had opened that door to Tom Jr.

Tom Sr. had grown use to the brief chats he had with Professor Dumbledore about his son's improvement, and had expected to have one on that stormy black night. But when Dumbledore strode through the entrance of the Leaky Bucket, his usual smile and twinkle in his eyes, had been replaced by etched lines of worry that stood out on a youthfully, smooth face. Lips tightened into a thin line, and eyes as stern as steel, told Tom that a chat was not a good idea. In fact, he had never seen the Professor this tense before. This behavior stood out to Tom so much that he knew something huge was going on in the wizarding world. If there was one thing Tom was good at, it was reading the body language people emanated.

With crisp steps Dumbledore wended his way through the coiling cigar smoke that thickened the air, and slipped passed miserable people covered with drenched shirts which clung limply to their skins. Subdued light leaked out from the gas lamps that were melded to the walls, soaking the tavern in a sober and gentle mood. That was the way the bartender liked it.

Tom attended his customers diligently, attempting to keep one eye on Dumbledore, but he found that hard to do if he were to make drinks properly, or pay attention to the common questions asked of him from his more familiar patrons. Tom answered all inquiries in his usual gruff and terse manner, but when he turned back to watching Dumbledore, the Professor had gone. Dumbledore had melted into the crowd, not once acknowledging Tom, who had at least expected a nod of the head or a smile.

Tom saw Dumbledore again near the back of the room, closing in on a booth tucked away in the far corner. Sitting in the booth was a stout man, whose tired face was covered in a dark beard. The weary man was hunkered down in the seat, one hand holding a tight grasp on his vodka, which he swallowed with an anxious speed. His other arm was wrapped around his midsection, holding his thick fur coat and, Tom suspected, something else. The stranger was nervous, constantly looking over his shoulder at the crowd around him. Something about this man caused Tom unease. No, it was more than unease that made his scalp prickle on end. He couldn't fathom what the Professor would want with this suspicious person. When the stranger had ordered his drink, Tom was sure he had heard a slight accent, Russian, slipping up ever once in awhile. This had raised Tom's suspicions even more, since Russia was oddly neutral right now in this war with Germany. He had not expected to have a Russian in his tavern.

The bartender decided it best that he attend to his bar counter, which was soaked in all kinds of drinks that had been spilled, sweeping his rag around the dark mugs. Every once in awhile he would glance over at the Professor and the Russian. As Tom Sr. made his way down his bar, he noticed that a new customer had just settled onto a barstool. Tom was intrigued by this newcomer as the young man ordered a whiskey on rocks. The newcomer at the bar counter wore a tattered old bomber jacket and a pair of dirt stained pants. His platinum blond, nearly white hair, stood on end and his cobalt eyes were glazed over. Though his face was youthful, his eyes had a hard glint to them. This caught Tom's attention. The young man in the tattered bomber jacket seemed too young to be at a bar, and yet his eyes were old, as if they had seen too much of the world. Tom figured he must have come from another pub, because he already seemed slightly inebriated. The youth swayed back and forth on his stool as if he was riding a storm riddled ship. This would have to be another one Tom Sr. would have to keep his eyes on. Tom turned back to his mugs and their cleanliness, his eyes now flitting between Professor Dumbledore in the far corner and the drunken man at his counter.

_BANG!_

Jerking his head around, Tom Sr. saw that the door to his pub had been wrenched open by the black tempest raging outside. Howling wind filled with rain swirled through his entranceway. Tom shuffled over to the door. As he was about to reach it, a horrible clammy cold frosted his insides. A dark memory suddenly pounced on him. He saw himself and his son in the marketplace, people turning their scornful eyes on his deformed child, whispering and hissing as they passed.

Tom reached the door and slammed it, shutting away the cold and that memory he wished he hadn't revisited. It was odd that he would remember that particular memory at the time that he did. He shuddered as he tried to rid himself of the sudden darkness that had come upon him.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3: BRINGING HOPE FROM EAST TO WEST

CHAPTER 3: BRINGING HOPE FROM THE EAST TO THE WEST

From the moment Dumbledore had walked into the pub, he could see very little in the smoky air. He preferred to have better vision, but he didn't dare do magic in a place brimming with Muggles and wizards alike. In fact, all he could see were the outlines of miserable people huddled under a gray fog. As Dumbledore moved deeper into the pub, he found that his vision improved. Golden hued glasses clinked as men and women silently slipped into a drowsy haze. Tom Sr. stood behind the bar, cleaning, fastidious as ever. Dumbledore couldn't spare Tom a few words, not tonight, when events were in motion.

Albus pressed through the crowd. He wished he had dressed more conspicuously, but there had been no time to change. There were others wearing cloaks, so it wasn't too odd, and as far as he knew the man he was to meet was not known to Grindelwald, yet. Spotting his new acquaintance in the far corner booth, Dumbledore found he was relieved and a little worried. Once he sat in that booth, he couldn't go back. The present and the future would be changed forever, and that idea frightened Albus. But there was one thing he was certain of. In the name of all that was good in the world, he was going to make sure that the change coming would bring down Grindelwald once and for all.

After zigzagging through the crowd, Dumbledore found himself sliding into the seat opposite his new dark haired companion. Fear and surprise stretched across the stranger's tired face, whose bloodshot eyes sagged from the deep purple shadows under them. The man scanned the area around the table. Dumbledore's eyes, on the other hand, never left the face of the nervous being across from him.

"I am a friend who comes from afar..." said the man, who waited, watching Dumbledore with suspicion and dread.

"Bringing hope from the east to the west!" Dumbledore answered.

The man relaxed, slumping in his seat as if a long and terrifying journey had finally come to an end. Albus was sure that the journey here had been frightening, but it wasn't over yet.

"You must be Albus Dumbledore," said the bearded man, a slight accent making its way through.

"Yes, and you must be Sergei Krum."

A nod of a head and a swift gulp of vodka was the reply that Dumbledore received. Sergei, like the rest of the patrons in the pub, seemed determined to wash down his worries with burning speed.

"I hear you have something important to give our side," stated Dumbledore, "something you very bravely managed to smuggle out of Russia."

Sergei nodded, pulling his coat closer to his body. He was twitchy, jumpy when anyone passed the table. Dumbledore remained stoically calm.

"Is there someplace private we may go? I don't feel the plans are safe here!" whispered Sergei.

"This place is as safe as any. I know the bartender, and am aware of all exit points. I am also not here alone, but if you feel there is a better place, then by all means lead me to it!" Dumbledore whispered in return, a slight twinkle returning to his eyes. He brushed a long strand of auburn hair out of his face.

"No!" exclaimed Sergei, a little louder than he had intended. He sneaked a look around him, but no one seemed to have heard him.

"No, if you say this place is safe I trust you. I have no other choice, but to trust you. I know of no _vun_…"

Sergei stopped, a deep bloom of blush reddened his face. He straightened up in his seat. It seemed to Dumbledore that he went through a lot of trouble to hide his Russian accent.

"I know of no one here except you," continued Sergei, more composed than before.

Dumbledore smiled as if he hadn't heard the slip up. Inside he wilted a little. No one should be anything other than what they were. Everyone should try to strive to be the best that they had in them, even if it wasn't much, but they should never be ashamed of who they were or where they came from. There seemed to be a lot of shame of that sort in the world these days.

"I must know" Dumbledore asked in a firm, but calm manner, "if anyone knows or suspects that the plans have made it to England."

Sergei fidgeted, then leaned in towards Dumbledore, his eyes for the first time steady and stern. His words spilled out of him like hot steam, a worried man dispensing of his anxieties.

"Before I say anything, I must know if I will have immunity and a place to stay. I can't go back home, not that I was ever accepted, but now I have a death sentence tailing me. I must also know that my wife and son can be smuggled out of Bulgaria where they are in hiding and have immunity as well."

Dumbledore brought his fingertips together in a pyramid shape, as he answered.

"You will of course be given immunity. The English Ministry of Magic is already working on a Visa to pass in the Muggle world. A home has been found and fitted up for you and your family once it is safe enough for them to be moved. I hope

everything is to your satisfaction."

Sergei did seem to be a little bit more relieved. In fact, Dumbledore could see the diminishing animal of fear that had been flitting constantly across the man's eyes. Sergei relaxed a bit in his chair, releasing the firm grip he had had on his cup.

"As far as I know they don't even know the plans are gone. My family, to which the plans had been entrusted for safe keeping by Grindelwald himself, would never expect me to be able to gain access to them being what I am," Sergei scowled. "I told my family that I was going on a business trip for a long duration. They seemed quite glad to be rid of me."

"Being what you are? What do you mean by that?" Dumbledore inquired.

Embarrassed, Sergei lowered his voice, and his shoulders drooped. "I was born to a pure-blood family, but no magic seems to run in my veins. I'm a…I'm…"

"…a Squib," answered Dumbledore.

Sergei nodded quickly, and glared at Dumbledore, daring him to laugh at him. Dumbledore on the other hand said nothing, and offered a warm smile. It seemed to take some of the frost off of Mr. Krum's feelings.

"I know plenty of good people who are Squibs, and I'll introduce you to them later, but right now, I must know have you been followed? Does anyone in your family know that you have the plans? It's crucial that our side have secrecy. So long as Grindelwald doesn't know where the plans are, we can figure out a way to destroy them or hide…"

"No!" whispered Sergei. Krum clenched the side of the table so hard, his knuckles turned white.

"No, what? No, you haven't been followed or…"

"You can't destroy them!"

"We have to! Many people, Muggles and wizards alike will die if Grindelwald gets a hold of these plans. It is a weapon the other side can NOT get their hands on," Dumbledore replied.

"My Uncle…one of my Uncles…helped me get the plans out of the house. He told me before he fled that…that the plans were protected by an ancient family spell. The plans can not be destroyed, and so long as a family member is in possession of them, they won't go off," Sergei said. He grabbed his cup, and gulped down the rest of his vodka. A nervous hand, trembling, wiped the remaining liquor from his matted beard.

"Are you telling me that the plans themselves are a weapon, and not just a blueprint for one?!" Dumbledore said, his fingers grasping the side of the table. This was definitely not what he expected.

"I'm telling you that if someone from my family is not holding or near the plans they will cause an explosion much like a Muggle bomb, taking out everything within 1000 feet of it!"

"Then it is imperative for me to know if you've been followed!" Dumbledore said sternly.

" I don't think I have been. I've been very careful. I thought for awhile, I had a tail on me, but I think I shook him off when I boarded a ship in the Mediterranean. My Uncle, after he found out what the plans really were, went to great lengths to strategize with me a way to smuggle them out of Russia. I had the right Muggle contacts, people my family wouldn't know about, and of course, a good excuse. Right now if my family notices the plans are gone, they'll think it was my Uncle who took them. He's in hiding somewhere in Bulgaria, along with my wife and child the last I heard. I've done my part. I smuggled them out of Russia, but now they're your problem. We can't physically destroy them because they're protected by the same family spell that binds them to me. I was hoping you would know of a way to break that spell, but until then, we're all in danger. You said something about hiding them?"

Dumbledore's face had turned to stone. He was glad to hear that Sergei took as much precaution as he had, but these were uncertain times, and it was hard to find someone you could trust. Sergei may believe that his Uncle got away, but if his Uncle was caught, and the Cruciatus Curse performed, it was only a matter of time before Grindelwald figured out where his plans went. And now Sergei's wife and child's life were at risk. Grindelwald wouldn't hesitate in killing them, if he knew they were in his way of gaining power through a horrific weapon. Sergei was right. The plans were now here, and England would become the front of a firestorm. The young Professor's hope lay on a man hidden in the East, a man he hoped was not caught and if he was, would not crack. Unfortunately, there were other ways that Grindelwald could find out. England was not as safe as it used to be.

"Dumbledore, you said you knew of some places where we could hide them?" inquired Sergei.

"I know of a few places that will work, though one place will be uncomfortable for you, and the other is quite far away."

"For me?"

Dumbledore's eyes pierced the man as he said, "Yes for you. The plans can never leave your side. I must hide you as well as them!"

"Well surely there must be…" Sergei stopped, his eyes staring at a fixed position behind Dumbledore. Dumbledore frowned, and was about to turn around, when Sergei's hand shot across the table, and grabbed the young Professor's arm.

"Have _you_ been followed?" hissed Sergei through clamped teeth.

Turning his head slightly, Dumbledore could just make out the corner of his eye a black hooded figure standing or floating in a shadow near their table. Dumbledore's heart nearly stopped as a cold chill shuddered through him. He wondered how long the Dementor had been there, and what it had heard. He had a feeling that it had caught most of their conversation. Dumbledore knew that if they stayed, the Dementor wouldn't dare attack in a public place, but someone had sent it, and that someone could be sending backup. They had to leave the Leaky Bucket some time.

Dumbledore turned back to the terrified Sergei. With a steady ease he stood up and bowed. As his inclined his head toward the Russian, Dumbledore let his voice out in the softest susurration.

"After I leave, get up slowly and head to the bar. Ask for the bartender, Tom, and tell him that Professor Dumbledore would like him to personally show you where his back room is."

"Professor? What do you…"

Without answering Sergei, Dumbledore raised himself up, and said quite loudly, "I'm sorry. I can't help you!"

Sergei started as Dumbledore knew he would. Albus quickly turned from his pale faced companion, and swept out of the bar. He knew the Dementor wouldn't follow him, not when a bigger prey was in front of it, but Albus also knew that if Sergei could get to that "room" then his counterpart could get him out of the way of danger.

As Dumbledore passed the bar where Tom stood wiping an already clean glass, he gave Tom a hard stare. He was sure Tom knew something was going on, and would catch on. A few moments later, Dumbledore pushed his way through the entrance of the Leaky Bucket, and walked out into the black, drowning night. The moment the door shut, there was a loud crack, and the Professor disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4: TOM'S BACK ROOM

Tom had been worried when Albus Dumbledore had sat down across from the Russian in the booth, and their whispered conversation only increased his wariness. The bartender was nervous, his hands trembling, making more noise with his glasses than he intended. The drunken man with the snowy white hair at his bar seemed to have become more intoxicated, and it irked Tom that he couldn't keep his full attention on the Professor.

In fact, Tom had had to watch the drunken man at his bar more than he would have liked, because the young man in the old bomber jacket had already knocked into another customer as he leaned back on his stool. Tom was angry when he had to make his other customer another drink, and angrier that he had to help the drunken man back onto his stool. He was fuming with the white haired youth because the moment he turned his head back to the table Dumbledore had occupied, the Professor had gone, leaving his black bearded acquaintance behind.

Tom saw Albus once more as he neared the door. Dumbledore had, for the first time that night, turned his attention to the perceptive bartender, and had given Tom the sternest, and possibly the most frightened look that he had ever seen on the Professor's face. Tom was now absolutely sure something was going on. He had also thought that he had seen the drunken man at his bar watch Dumbledore go as well. In fact, he was sure he had glimpsed a spark of intelligence and intention in the drunk man's large blue eyes. For the first time, Tom was starting to suspect that the man in the old bomber jacket sitting at his bar, the man whom Tom had had to keep his eye on all night, might be something more than he pretended to be. But the moment Dumbledore left, the drunken youth turned back to his drink, and the sullen haze he had allowed himself to slip into. Maybe, Tom construed, the man had thought it odd that someone would wear an emerald cloak.

The bartender was so intent on watching the white haired youth that he had not been aware that the Russian had left his far corner booth, and had weaved his way through the crowd to Tom's bar. The bartender was surprised by this change, but was even more surprised when the stranger had asked for Tom himself. The dark haired Russian was agitated, sweating large drops of anxiety, that much Tom could see. His arms were wrapped vice like around his chest as if he intended to keep the blustering night out. Tom moved down the bar towards the frightened man, who leaned over the countertop, his large black eyes focused on the bartender as if Tom was his only salvation. As Tom Sr. passed the sullen white haired youth that had so irritated him before, he noticed an odd silence surrounded the young man. It seemed as if old bomber jacket was quite keen to listen to Tom and the Russian's conversation.

Tom reached Dumbledore's acquaintance, a mug and a rag still in his hand. The Russian leaned over his bar even more, smudging the mahogany countertop that the bartender had just cleaned. Tom could smell the tired Russian's fear as it mingled with his alcohol tinged sweat.

"Are you Tom?" stuttered the Russian.

"I am," Tom said tersely.

"Professor Dumbledore said that he would like you to personally show me where your backroom is."

Tom stepped back a bit. His pub was larger than most, but not large enough to hold a backroom. All he had was a back alley, lined with bulging trash bins of yesterday's trash, but this wasn't the first time he had received such an odd request. Tom nodded, and strode out from behind his bar. He led the Russian through the crowd, and as he passed his dishwasher boy, he pointed to the unattended bar. The boy nodded, and filled in Tom's usual post. As the dishwasher boy arrived behind the counter, he thought it odd when a tall, young man with untidy white-blond hair got up, quickly slapped a few bills down and pushed his way through the crowd, heading in the same direction as the bartender.

As for Tom, it didn't take him long to reach the back of his pub. He knew every inch of its worn stone and scarred wood. The Leaky Bucket had been apart of London for hundreds of years, much longer than his family had ever had it. It was said his grandfather had bought it off an odd chap, who had let the place fall into ruin. Now that it was his, and would soon be his son's, Tom took pride in it. He knew everything that happened inside the Leaky Bucket, even the subtlest change in the atmosphere. Tonight he could sense a difference in the air; it was a taunt, electric tension, unusual for the quiet establishment. Something big was happening inside his walls.

When Tom reached the door to his "back room", he hesitated, turning slightly to see if the dark haired, stocky Russian was there behind him. Dumbledore's acquaintance was still there, though his eyes were wide, and his face frost pale. The Russian was hunched over himself as if he were in physical pain. A phantom of fright flickered in the man's eyes.

"My back room," Tom said, and he opened the door onto the back alley.

To his surprise and the Russian's, someone stood there that he had never seen before, someone who had waited for the door to open, a wand at the ready.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5: ON THE ROAD AND BACK AGAIN

The journey to Hogwarts was rough in the slipshod rain. With the country roads leading to the school in dire need of repair, it was a wonder that the wheel of the coach had not broken twice. Of course, Albus Dumbledore could have fixed it with magic, but he had had to do it once already. He didn't think it wise, if the wheel broke a second time, to fix it again, considering one of his traveling companions was a Muggle, or so he claimed. It wasn't too much of a surprise of how horrid the conditions of the roads were in, with the war on, and resources as tight as they were. Most Muggles believed that Hogwarts was just a pile of ruins from an ancient past.

Dumbledore had his fingertips slightly out the window, enjoying the soft touch of the rain. The crystal veil of water fell over the richly lush countryside, its cool touch bringing life. Albus had become entranced by the melodic accompaniment that drummed softly on the roof of the coach. He closed his eyes, letting the damp air wash across his face, smelling the green fertility around him, and for a moment, he caught the scent of lavender. That was Ariana's favorite flower. In that drop of time, there was no war, no Grindelwald, or hideous weapon that he wanted to unleash, no death. In that elongated second, his sister, Ariana, was her sweet self as she had once been.

"Dumbledore, are we almost there? Are we close to Hogwarts?" inquired Sergei Krum.

Dumbledore turned away from the pleasant countryside, to face the dark interior of the coach, and the situation at hand. Sitting at his side, Sergei was hunched over, still trembling from the Dementor encounter. His black eyes were more strained and bloodshot than they had ever been before. Every once in awhile, Sergei would shift those eyes to the young man who sat in the opposite corner from him. Unlike the Russian, this man was not scared, but tense and alert.

The man opposite Mr. Krum was young, with a shock of untidy white hair, cold blue eyes, and who wore an old, tattered bomber jacket. He said his name was Jean Fulver, a French soldier on the trail of a Russian spy, who was selling information to the enemy, or that was his story.

Sitting next to Fulver was a fourth man, an American wizard named Johnny Wolfbane. It was he who waited outside the door of the Leaky Bucket, expecting to get Sergei Krum, and receiving more than he bargained for. Johnny Wolfbane was tall, with thick black hair to his shoulders, and a strong, bronze face, but it was his violet, almost hawk like eyes, that stood out the most. They were unique in more ways than one. He was the product of an Native American princess with the gift of foresight, and an African wage worker, who had the ability to morph into any animal he wished easily. Their son had both abilities united in one person, which made him one of the strongest wizards Albus had ever met, but also the most untamed. Johnny had never had a formal magical education, until he had met Albus some years back. Wolfbane had heard of the famous Professor Dumbledore all the way from his home in a Louisiana bayou. With his parents' help, he had raised enough money to come to England, find the adept Albus Dumbledore, and to, of course, see the famous Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Johnny was too old to be admitted to Hogwarts, but Dumbledore had befriended him all the same, helping him control his abilities. He could do things that Dumbledore had never seen before. He was a formidable wizard. It was _his_ violet colored eyes that never left Jean Fulver. He, too, had a hard time believing that the Muggle French soldier had told them the absolute truth.

Dumbledore still found it odd that a Muggle soldier had somehow been clued into the fact that Sergei was carrying information. He would need to watch this Jean Fulver very closely. The Professor, as well as Wolfbane, had agreed that Fulver was not a wizard, but they still debated on whether or not he knew of the wizarding world, or Grindelwald's plans. It was true that the boy hadn't even realized he was running straight toward the Dementor, after he had burst out into the alley, not far behind Sergei Krum. It was quite a surprise for Wolfbane, who had been standing at the back door, expecting on getting one man. Instead he got two with a Dementor not far behind, but Johnny Wolfbane wasn't the only one startled by unexpected visitors.

The Muggle French soldier, Jean Fulver, had anticipated on catching Sergei Krum alone. He was not prepared to deal with such a physically intimidating opponent like Wolfbane, but it was the young man wrapped in an emerald cloak, who seemed to have popped out of the very rain that fell around them, that astounded the Frenchman. Jean Fulver was still recovering from this new arrival, when the man in the emerald cloak turned on the Muggle and pointed a stick in Fulver's face. Jean wasn't quite sure what to make of this, staring absentmindedly at the tall, lean newcomer with the long, crooked nose.

Without realizing it, the Frenchman had given Dumbledore and Wolfbane the distraction they had needed. The Dementor had turned from Sergei onto Jean Fulver, as another Dementor rounded the corner, bearing down on Albus and Johnny. Albus had taken on the Dementor attacking the Muggle, chasing the gliding creature away with his phoenix Patronus. Behind him, his American friend's huge bear Patronus barreled through the second Dementor. Each grabbing a companion, Dumbledore snatching Sergei's coat, and Johnny wrapping his thick muscled arms around the struggling Frenchman, they Disapparated out of the alley, and into a lonely country lane. Albus had picked the secluded spot as a backup meeting place should anything go wrong, and he was right in doing so. Nearby Johnny had hidden a carriage and two horses in an abandoned barn.

Completely bewildered, Jean Fulver had begun to put up a vicious struggle with Wolfbane, even though the American was a foot taller, broad chested, and had an almost bear like strength, seeing as he often turned into one. Albus would have chuckled at the sight if the situation were not so dire.

Knowing they didn't have much time, Dumbledore quickly stunned Fulver, and Johnny placed a Silencing Charm over the Muggle, as he caught the falling Frenchman. Albus was sorry to have to stun the French Muggle, especially if he was just an innocent bystander, who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Dumbledore couldn't take the chance if he were more than that.

He was doing it for the greater good.

The moment Albus Dumbledore thought those words, a wave of revulsion passed through him. Those were words that he never wanted to hear, or think of again. Disgusted with himself, Dumbledore turned to the man whom he was suppose to be protecting.

Sergei Krum had been so weakened by the attack that he had fallen to his knees in the middle of the country lane, sucking in the cool, mid summer air, and exhaling all the bad feelings he had had. Dumbledore knew how he felt. The Dementors had brought back fresh the faces of his mother and Ariana, two people whom would haunt Dumbledore forever. He had failed them; they were dead because of his weakness. He knew he would have to face his past, would have to face Grindelwald sooner or later, but today was not the day. Dumbledore wondered how long he could put off the day when he would have to deal with his former friend, who had turned into the darkest and cruelest wizard to date.

As Dumbledore had been deep in thought, ruminating over the Muggle and his involvement, Johnny had gotten the carriage ready to go, and they were off in a matter of minutes. Dumbledore, not use to such a thoroughly Muggle way of traveling, found the ride, at first to be, uncomfortable, but soon grew accustomed to the quiet time and beautiful scenery. It gave his mind a time and place to escape.

"Dumbledore, are we almost there? Are we close to Hogwarts?" repeated Sergei Krum.

Albus jolted out of his memory of the very recent past and turned his attention to Sergei.

"Close," he answered.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6: JEAN FULVER

Jean Fulver was suspicious. How could he trust his new traveling companions after what he had seen them do, after what they had done to him? His mind couldn't quite fathom yet what it was he had seen.

He remembered chasing the Russian spy into the alley. He remembered the feeling of vengeance and anger burning like a wildfire inside him, as he was determined to bring down the man who was responsible for the death of his friend, Marius. As Jean Fulver had approached Sergei Krum, something fell over him like a shadow. A terrible cold had oozed into him, as hopelessness seeped into the darkest corners of his mind. He thought of Marius, and how he had died. Jean was thinking of that painful memory, feeling himself getting weaker and weaker, as it past through his mind over and over again. Near him, Sergei had fallen to the ground, and was shielded by another man, a large, crudely dressed man, surely American from his accent. Jean couldn't remember what the American had been saying as more horrible memories floated up from his consciousness.

Then out of nowhere a third man popped out of the air, his emerald cloak swirling about the light shower of rain. Jean had thought it odd when this newcomer had pointed a wooden stick in his face. He was the same young man Fulver had seen earlier with Sergei.

Fulver heard the American shout, "Dumbledore watch out!"

Dumbledore jerked his stick away from Jean, and pointed it at the empty space behind the Frenchman. Fulver hadn't been sure what it was that the man named Dumbledore had seen, but the next moment, Dumbledore did something that Jean had never seen before nor thought had existed. He did magic. A bird of ethereal light burst out of, what Jean guessed was, a wand, arching its graceful wings, and speeding towards Fulver with a light beauty.

Jean had fallen to the ground as the bird swooped past him. As he did, he saw the American performing the same magic, except his was in a form of a monolithic bear. Stunned by the sight, Fulver felt as if his body was paralyzed in exhilaration and fear. Jean barely had time to say two words before the American yanked him off the ground, wrapped his arms around him, and did something the Frenchman had never felt before. He sucked Fulver through time and space. That was the only way Jean could explain it to himself.

Terrified and angry with his new companions, not to mention frustrated that the man he had been hunting for months was going to escape, Jean fought against the American with every inch of muscle he had, but the Frenchman was no match for the much bigger American. And Fulver had not anticipated on the quick reaction from Dumbledore. Dumbledore stunned Jean's body, and the American did something that prevented Fulver from speaking.

So one could say, there were plenty of reasons why Jean would be enraged and frustrated by his new companions. For Sergei Krum, he felt downright hatred, the venom of it throbbing in his veins.

Whatever information Sergei had stolen or sold, had been the reason his friend Marius was not with Jean, and the French soldier meant to get his revenge.

Jean and Marius were an inseparable pair when they were younger, the local pranksters and terror of the neighborhood. Marius had come from a well-respected, and well-off family, whereas Jean had come from a middleclass family who dreamed of being more. Needless to say he was always poorer than Marius, his clothes always out of style, and his schoolbooks to the prestigious academy he went to with Marius, secondhand. Jean Fulver's parents did what they could for their son, scraping by to send him to the best school, but Marius never seemed to care that his friend wore hand me downs.

"Money is a materialistic, human idea. We should strive for more worthier items!" Marius used to say.

Both had gone into the army for glory's sake, both wanting to stand and fight the biggest aggressor in the largest war of all time. They wanted to become immortal and legendary, Marius more than Jean. Marius was always the leader, the instigator. He was the brilliant one, who came up with all their crazy plans. Jean had only gone along for the ride, hoping to help stop the tyranny he saw all around him. When Marius had been accepted into the espionage business, he requested that Jean come along with him. Command could see the two could not be parted, and worked better as a team anyway. Marius could be a genius, but Jean was the one who brought sense to the pair.

It was a year before they went out on a joint mission together. Command had decided to test out Marius as a spy alone, and relegated Jean to desk duty, organizing the endless piles of mail. Marius had gone out into the world, fighting the war of information and misinformation.

Feeling slightly abandoned, Jean lived for the letters that Marius sent him, his fingers eager to feel the worn paper and imprinted adventures. At first, Marius wrote weekly, his letters full of rich details of the lands and people he had seen. He never gave away crucial information about a mission, but Jean could tell he was enjoying the adventure and danger. Then the letters came monthly with less detail, a different and disconcerting tone growing with every letter. Jean knew his friend well, and could tell that Marius had come across something that excited him, but also obsessed him.

From a young age Marius had gotten everything he ever wanted, sometimes waiting months, or even years until he attained it. Once an item or person became an obsession, he rarely lost interest in it. Jean had never seen something that Marius didn't, in the end, attain. Some would call it perseverance, but Jean saw it more as madness in a way. Marius could become fanatical, reckless and dangerous in his obsessions. Jean could read through Marius' words, and his deteriorating penmanship, that whatever Marius had found, whatever had him this excited, was the strongest obsession that Jean had ever seen.

The last letter Jean Fulver had ever received was the most rashly written, and the shortest one yet. It told him that his friend was somewhere along the Eastern front hunting down, what Marius called, a "lost and wonderful treasure". And then all contact stopped for months on end.

After that, the world had grown a lot darker for Jean. His closest friend had gone as well as the gusto in Fulver's life. Now all that was left to Jean was the monotonous paper shuffling job he had been given.

Command began to question him about Marius. They, too, had lost track of him, which made them equally nervous if not more. Someone was leaking information, and command was determined to find out who it was. A spy who drops from sight is usually the first suspect. Marius' disappearance worried Jean. It meant one thing. His friend was in trouble.

It was at the apex of Jean's fear and anxiety, at the dead of winter that Jean finally received a telegram from Marius. It said that Marius was returning to France with new and important information for the allied side. He asked Jean to meet him.

It was in a tiny French café, tucked away in the heart of Paris that Jean was to meet his old friend again. Feeling less than cordial towards Marius, Fulver was almost tempted not to go, but he was also curious, curious as to what Marius had been doing all those long months he had not written, and what information he could possibly have that turned him from suspect to hero.

It was at this fateful meeting that Marius had first mentioned the name of Sergei Krum. Marius had come back to France to enlist his old friend's help in tracking down the spy, who had stolen deployment schedules and battle plans, and was going to sell it to the enemy.

"Jean, he can't be allowed to succeed because if he does, all we know and love will burn. Beautiful France will burn. You have to help me stop him. If you do, I know of someone who will reward you with something beyond your dreams. We can share it together, and become immortal."

When Marius had finished, Jean saw a manic light in his friend's eyes, the same light he always saw when Marius talked of his obsessions, but this was a thousand fold stronger. This worried Jean. He agreed to go with Marius if only to slow his friend down, and keep him from doing anything too reckless.

They left the next night, leaving the lights of Paris behind by train. Jean could feel a change coming, and a part of him had a foreboding feeling. Something dark was coming in these already dark times. Traveling mostly at night, Jean and Marius worked their way across the war torn continent, helping where they could, and hiding when they must. They became masters of stealth, living off nature and generous hands, only resulting to stealing when no other option, but death was open to them.

Fulver had found a courage inside him that he never knew he had, but also a stillness and a calm. He grew tired of having an adventure for the sake of an adventure, and the farther they traveled from France, the more he believed that this was one of those trips.

Marius, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his young life. He became more and more reckless. What he loved to do the most was antagonize the German army as much as possible, especially young German lieutenants out on a cigarette break. He loved sneak attacks on sleeping encampments, and near death escapes. The closer they came to being caught, the more Marius seemed to like it.

Jean didn't find these skirmishes quite as fun, and, at times, pointless. Weren't they on the trail of a dangerous Russian spy? Jean often had to rein in Marius, and remind him what it was they were after, but Marius always acted as if he knew what he was doing, as if he was waiting for someone or something to happen.

And that something happened two months later in the middle of February. By that time, they had reached, and crossed over into Russia. Winter had settled on the land like an unrelenting iron fist of cold and death. Food was becoming scarce, and help even scarcer.

It was in Russia that the gulf between the two friends widened exponentially. They had made their way into a tiny, farming community holed up for the winter. Marius and Jean headed to the local bar, but as the two friends were about to enter it together, Marius had insisted to go in alone.

"Jean, my contact will only talk to me. If I bring you along, he won't meet with me. Trust me."

Jean had more than once been wary of this mysterious contact that was feeding information to Marius. It was the way Marius looked whenever he talked of his contact. That same madness, usually connected with his obsessions, blazed out of his eyes. Jean could see his friend slipping more and more into that chaotic darkness. Soon Marius would never be able to come back from it.

It was at the local bar that Marius had been given the location and details about Sergei Krum. Krum was the youngest son of a wealthy aristocratic family, who lived not too far from where they were. The Krum family resided in a large, medieval stone manor on a sloping hill that overlooked the village. Guarded on all sides by hedges and a wrought iron gate, and surrounded by thickly vegetated woods, it displayed its ostentatious wealth and dominance over the tiny village below proudly, even as the village fell to ruin.

Over the next week they planned out their attack. Marius planned on entering the Krum family estate alone, while Jean caused enough mayhem to get the family out of the house. Jean didn't like the idea of Marius going in alone, but Marius insisted. He said that only one person could get in unnoticed. To Jean, the plan seemed too simple, not creative enough of a plan for Marius. This worried Jean more than he thought it would. It wasn't like Marius to come up with something so simplistic.

The day before the attack, Fulver had gone out at night setting charges around the Krum estate in strategic places where the explosions could be seen best from the manor. Next he parked the getaway truck in a copse that abutted the back end of the estate.

The next day, Jean waited in the truck, detonators in hand. The first explosion went off near the backside of the manor, bringing bright color to the drab, gray afternoon. The explosion shook the truck, and flames rolled up into the sky. Immediately servants ran out of the house towards the flames. The family, on the other hand, remained on the stone veranda. Dressed entirely in black, the dour family watched as the fire ate away at their terraced gardens. Jean noticed that Sergei wasn't amongst the crowd; he knew what Sergei looked like, after having seen a picture shown to him by Marius. It was yet another thing Marius' mysterious contact had given him.

Jean set off the second explosion. This one was set next to an old out house on the opposite side of the first explosion. Jean couldn't see that fire as well as the first, but he watched as more servants filed out of the house carrying buckets of water. Marius should be in by now, hopefully securing the plans at that very moment.

Blankets of smoke thickened the air as the two infernos burned their way through the vegetation. The first fire raged wildly as servants dashed back and forth trying to put the flames out, but when Jean turned his gaze on the second blaze, he was shocked to see a small spiraling line of smoke. How did they get the second fire out so quickly? Jean jerked the binoculars that he had had in his hands back to the cellar door where Marius was suppose to come from. He had expected the second conflagration to last longer, splitting the servants up, but now throngs of servants ran back towards the first fire. Lines formed as buckets were passed hand by hand towards the flames. It wouldn't be long before the first fire would be put out. The family, which had been lounging on the stone veranda, began to slouch back into the house, bored already with the scene.

Jean's eyes ached from the constant race back and forth, from the cellar door to the diminishing blaze. His sweaty palms slid anxiously on the rough steering wheel, absentmindedly wringing its worn surface. Jean had one more charge he could set off, but this one could kill the nearby servants. He wasn't ready to be a murderer, but he felt his hand edge towards the third button on the detonator all the same. His eyes bore into the flaked and cracked cellar door, watching for the slightest movement.

The flames from the first fire had been tamed down to a mild bonfire. The entire family had disappeared inside the house, and the servants now were making their way in. Jean could feel his thumb massage the third button.

The very second that Jean had decided to set the third charge off, several things happened at once. A loud, echoing boom shook the air as a gun was set off. Marius burst out of the cellar door, and huge, lumbering menservants jumped out after him, pistols in their hands. Jean slammed the keys into the ignition, and yanked the gearshift as he stomped on the gas pedal. With squealing tires and flying mud, Jean sped towards Marius, who was weaving back and forth through the trees that made up the back end of the estate. Fulver reached the road, a thin dirt route that ran alongside the perimeter, and pulled a pistol out of his pocket. Opening the door for Marius, he began to lay cover for his friend. Bullets sprayed up mud, bits of hedges and trees around Marius. Marius made it to the back end of the estate, which was only guarded by a low hedge. He was now only 10 feet from the truck. Bullets ricocheted off the truck, grazing the metal at a high pitched speed. The menservants were catching up to Marius.

Marius leapt over the hedge, but landed wrong. He stumbled, but managed to stay up long enough to make it to the cab of the truck, where Jean pulled him in, slammed the door shut and sped off.

It was at least thirty minutes later, and miles away from the Krum estate before Jean stopped the truck. Turning to his friend, expecting to see the brassy and mischievous smile he had seen so often lately, Jean was shocked to see Marius slumped in the seat. With a face as pale as winter frost, lips of lilac, Marius' head lolled on his shoulders, his bright eyes dimming with every passing second. Jean swerved the truck to a halt. After snatching every bit of clothing he could find on him, he pressed it down on the gut wound Marius had been grasping, trying to stop the steady stream of blood, which ran over the seat to the dirt encrusted floor.

"Jean, Sergei wasn't there. He got the plans out, and will board train 24 in Moscow…" Marius grimaced as pain shook his body, the life draining out of him faster than Jean wanted it too.

Marius, for the first time in his life, looked afraid. His green eyes locked onto Jean's. His friend seemed to be trying to say something to Jean, the last of his will bent on being heard. After what seemed like a fierce battle inside Marius, his friend managed a soft whisper.

"I'm not M…"

But Jean never heard the last of the sentence. Those were the last words that Marius spoke before his body fell limp. A howling, discordant wind swept across the Russian steppe. Jean could feel the tempest inside him rage on, and for a moment he felt as alive and determined as the wind. He would find Sergei Krum, and he would avenge Marius, but something nagged at Jean. What was it his friend was trying to say before he died?


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7: MISUNDERSTANDINGS

As they neared the school, Albus Dumbledore decided that it was time to lift the silencing spell that Johnny had placed on the Frenchman. He needed to be absolutely sure that this Jean Fulver was who he said he was. With a curt nod of Dumbledore's head, Johnny Wolfbane caught the message, and released Fulver. Sergei Krum, who sat next to Dumbledore, tensed up, his pale fingers digging into the carriage seat.

Jean Fulver's lips peeled back in anger, as a dark glimmer returned to his eyes. He never kept those eyes off of Sergei Krum. Dumbledore noted this, and carefully tucked it away into the folds of his mind. There was something that the young Frenchman had not told them, some part of his story that was left out.

"Where are you taking me?" snapped Fulver.

"To a safe place," answered Dumbledore.

"So what's next? Are you taking me to a torture camp to be put down? Or do you plan on 'questioning' me in the usual method?"

" I don't know of any torture camps around here, unless you consider a school to be a place of torture, of which my students would probably agree with you," Dumbledore paused, and watched as Jean Fulver's face turned, for a slight moment, into a mask of confusion. "As for questioning you, I think I will, considering what is at stake. I don't know what the 'usual method' is, so I will start by introducing myself and my American friend here. My name is Albus Dumbledore, which you already know, and I'm a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Sitting next to you is my American associate Mr. Johnny Wolfbane, a formidable man, not one to be taken lightly."

Johnny leaned in closer to Fulver. Fulver shifted away slightly, but not enough to indicate that the Frenchman was intimidated. And not once did the young man flinch. If Jean Fulver was anything, he wasn't a coward.

" 'School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?' Obviously you're speaking in code. I didn't know that England has spies working for the Germans. Let's stop talking in riddles. I know that Sergei Krum carries a parcel that he has stolen" (Sergei wasn't too pleased with being called a thief) "and I know he plans on selling it to the Germans. Now stop playing games, and tell me where you're taking me!" Fulver responded.

The air sizzled with Jean's lingering words. Either Fulver was very smart, and knew how to misdirect an opponent, or he really was a soldier that got mixed up in the middle. Dumbledore believed that _Jean _ believed that Sergei was a spy, but Albus still couldn't put together how Fulver knew of Sergei to begin with. There was something still missing from the story.

"I'm not talking in code. I'm a Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that takes young kids, and teaches them how to control their gift, the magic that they can do."

"Magic?! There's no such thing as…" Jean let the rest of the sentence die out.

He knew that what he had been about to utter was not true if what he had seen was to be trusted. Fulver was still debating on whether or not what he had seen Dumbledore and Wolfbane do had been real, or if he was losing his sanity. Never before had he ever doubted his mental state. In fact, he had always relied on his good sense and ability to see the truth in things on more than one instance.

So what was the truth now? Jean tried to reason out and rationalize away what he had seen Dumbledore and Wolfbane do, what they had done to him. No matter how he looked at recent events, he couldn't find an answer that explained the creatures of light he had seen Dumbledore and Wolfbane conjure up, or how the Professor seemed to have come out of nowhere. The young Frenchman turned to the waiting Professor, making sure that he was really there. Dumbledore was still there, his keen blue eyes watching Jean, allowing him to process everything he had seen.

"What you did behind the pub, the creatures of light you made, that was…" Jean couldn't bear to say what he knew to be impossible. Magic was the bread and butter of fairy tales that young children read, not a real functioning reality in this world.

"Magic," Dumbledore finished. "They were what we wizards call Patronuses, protective spells against Dementors. Mine was the phoenix and Mr. Wolfbane's was the bear."

Fulver hadn't understood a word that the man with the half-moon spectacles had said, except maybe phoenix and bear. No one else in the carriage seemed surprised, or confused about what was said, no one else, but him.

"Listen, I don't have time to explain to you the magical world that you have stepped into, and the dire situation at hand," Dumbledore started. "Magic does exist. We used it right in front of you. No, we're not taking you to be tortured. No, we're not working with the enemies, and yes, I know you're hiding something you haven't told us!"

Jean Fulver paled slightly, but it was enough to indicate that Dumbledore had hit close to the truth. Jean remained silent, his blue eyes veiled in puzzlement and concealment, never looking away from Dumbledore. He was reevaluating the Professor, and Dumbledore gave him the time to do it.

"I am a French soldier who has received information that this man"-- and Jean pointed to Sergei-- "has important battle plans, which he intends to sell to the Germans. I know he has them, and I know you, Monsieur Dumbledore, are in league with him, which makes you the enemy! I don't have time for games either. I just want Sergei and the plans!"

Wolfbane chuckled at Fulver's boldness. He watched as the stalemate grew.

Dumbledore was unexpectedly impressed by the man. He had to give Fulver credit for his keen perception, but Dumbledore still debated on whether or not Fulver was a threat. Should they have wiped Fulver's memory clean at the Leaky Bucket and left? But that would have meant that the Dementors would have had a nice little snack left behind, and even Dumbledore wouldn't wish a Dementor's kiss on his worst enemy. No, the Professor had to admit that, for one reason or another, he trusted this young Muggle soldier. There was truth to his story, even if it wasn't the absolute truth.

The tinkling of the rain on the roof became all the more louder in the growing silence. The clop of the horses' footsteps were dull drums as they rose and fell in the mud and water. Thunder rolled through the night air around them, intensifying the atmosphere inside the carriage.

"Mr. Fulver…" Dumbledore started.

He didn't finished the sentence because, at that moment, the coach came to a lurching halt. The rain had turned from a soft melody, to a thundering hiss of discord. Dumbledore looked at Wolfbane, who, with a nod of his head, peaked out the window.

Johnny Wolfbane quickly pulled his head back in and shook it, sending sprays of rain over Fulver. He hadn't seen anyone, but he could sense someone nearby. Dumbledore pulled out his wand as did Wolfbane. Both Sergei and Fulver tensed up, and waited. Nothing happened at first. No approaching footsteps, or noise of any kind were being made. The night had sucked up its windy breathe in anticipation, leaving only a void.

The dark waited outside.

Johnny Wolfbane raised his wand to the carriage door as he pushed it open, and got out. Quietly Wolfbane shut the door behind him, and landed in the mud with unnatural ease and unfathomable silence. The rain plastered Johnny's long hair to his body as he stood there watching and listening. His senses were on high alert. Wolfbane walked forward in a half crouch, his muscles tensed and ready to spring forward into whatever shape he could muster. He could feel his body changing as adrenaline flooded through him.

Wolfbane's nose caught more scents in the air than a normal human. He could smell the horses' sweat as it mixed with the rain and their warm fear. He could hear the impatient stamp of their hooves as they wanted to go forward, but found they couldn't. He could taste the thickening silence with his tongue as he tasted the air.

And that's when he caught the different scent, one that shouldn't be there.

Johnny froze, lowering himself closer to the ground. The scent he caught was definitely human, and whoever it came from was standing right in front of the coach, right where he nor Dumbledore could see them. They seemed to be holding the horses at bay, almost as if they were waiting. Johnny moved forward. He could feel his muscles as they thickened. Already his hands were darkening as thick hair started to grow all over his body, and his eyes were flickering between violet and yellow. He slid his wand into a secret compartment in his vest. As he neared the horses, they nervously jittered away from him.

"Whoa, easy there. This won't take long," said an unfamiliar voice.

_No, it wouldn't,_ thought Johnny.

Wolfbane crept closer to the newcomer who held the horses at a standstill, and finally got a look at the intruder. It was a man dressed entirely in black, tall and gangly, with large drooping black eyes and an anemically pale face. With a wand in his hand, the stranger stood in the rain, alert and waiting, but he wasn't looking at Johnny or the carriage. He watched the road behind them, waiting for reinforcements, and wondering why no one had gotten out of the carriage yet.

A bruised sky surrounded them as hard bullets of rain fell. Johnny stealthily moved through the night, getting closer and closer to the man in black, his large paws barely making a sound as he glided from shadow to shadow. He was now a huge wolf, his muscles rippling under a thick coat of black fur. Cold spurts of breath slithered out from behind long curved teeth. Despite how big he was, the wolf was agile and quick, closing the gap between him and the intruder. He had circled behind the man, without being seen or heard.

When he was just the right distance away to pounce, the stranger in black must have caught movement out the corner of his eye, because he suddenly spun around, his wand and its pulsing light pointed at the wolf. Stunned by sight of the wolf behind him, the man could hardly speak a word, his eyes wide in fear, his mouth a dark hole of shock. Horror oozed over his face, and Johnny could smell the intruder's terror.

The man raised his wand, and shot a spell at the wolf, aiming to kill, but hit nothing, but night. Johnny was now on the side of him, a deep rumble of a growl boiling out of his throat. When the man turned, the growl intensified as Wolfbane bared his fangs, and began snapping his large jaw. Johnny paced back and forth, getting ready to pounce, but his attack would never come. Before he knew what happened, a Stunning Spell hit him from behind. The wolf stumbled a bit, then hit the ground.

Black boots belonging to a middle aged woman dressed in a red cloak strode past the wolf. She was plump, and had, what seemed to be, a permanent scowl etched on her stony face. Not once did the woman take notice of Wolfbane. Instead she turned her attention to the carriage. The man in black, on the other hand, was not interested in the carriage anymore.

"Look at the big bad wolf now. I'm going to have fun with you!" said the man in black as he moved towards the wolf. An evil leer stretched across the man's bony face, turning it into a mask of death.

"Take care of the dog quickly, while I watch the carriage," said the woman in red. "Our backup should be here soon. I can't believe that they were guarding my dear Squib of a cousin with only a dog. There's someone else in this, someone Grindelwald told us to be careful of because he was the strongest wizard in England. I'm not going to take that warning lightly."

The man in black hardly listened to the woman as he crouched down next to Johnny. He put his wand away, and pulled out a knife. Chuckling, the man waved the knife in front of Johnny's eyes, then slashed at one of Johnny's front legs, leaving a red line of blood. Johnny growled more in anger than in pain. Inside, Wolfbane let the electric line of pain pass through him. What the man in black didn't know was that spells wore off faster on Wolfbane then on normal humans. Even now he could feel the power of the spell ebb from him as feeling began to come back to his muscles. The man in black's eyes gleaned with evil as he sliced a deeper cut into Johnny's other front leg.

"Boris!" screamed the woman. Boris, the man in black, looked up.

"Just finish the dog up already!" She spat the word dog out as if it were bile.

It was only a few seconds, tiny moments that the man had taken his eyes off of the wolf, and turned them to his counterpart, but that was all that Johnny needed. Wolfbane leapt up from the ground, snapping at Boris, his jaws just missing the man in black as the wolf landed on his feet at an awkward angle. Boris yelped as he stumbled backwards from Johnny, managing somehow to stay on his feet.

The wolf, still a bit sluggish, paced back and forth, shaking his head to clear it from the spell. Boris tossed his knife to the ground, and yanked his wand out of his pocket. He pointed his wand to where the wolf had been and found nothing, but darkness. Johnny had slipped around to the side of him. The shadows hid the huge beast as if they melted into his very coat. Only the lightening lit up Wolfbane. Boris wheeled around and began to shoot his spells at the nightmarish creature.

Meanwhile the woman in the red cloak, who had been distracted by Boris and the wolf, didn't see Dumbledore get out of the carriage, his wand aimed at her back. Instead of hitting her square in the back, he blasted a warning spell past her head. She froze, and slowly turned to face a furious Dumbledore.

Now two battles waged, Boris and Johnny and the woman in red and Dumbledore. Spells singed the rain and shot up mud as they hit the ground. Deflected spells burned holes in the nearby trees and bushes. Everyone had their wands whirling so fast through the air that they were blurs, everyone except Johnny.

Johnny the wolf moved around Boris like a dust storm. It infuriated Boris, which made the man's aim worse. Johnny kept testing his boundaries, how close he could get to Boris, looking for one tiny mistake, and then he would have the man in black.

The moment for Johnny came at an unexpected time, as both man and wolf froze, and watched the battle between Dumbledore and the woman in red. Something or rather someone, unexpectedly interrupted their battle. Unfortunately, it didn't help Dumbledore out in the least bit.

Albus was easily deflecting the woman's curses. She was good, he had to give her that, but she was too aggressive, and had no finesse.

But she saw Sergei before Dumbledore did.

Dumbledore only realized that Sergei had gotten out of the carriage, and was standing right behind him when the man spoke.

"Marabella?!" Sergei exclaimed.

Dumbledore turned towards Krum in surprise, and was caught off guard as a Stunning spell clipped his shoulder. Albus fell to the ground, his wand arm momentarily numbed. He hadn't received the full force of the spell, but it still incapacitated him long enough to watch the woman point her wand at Sergei.

Everything slowed down, even the fall of the rain. Albus saw the tiniest of smiles edge the woman in red's lips. He saw Wolfbane and Boris frozen a few feet away, but most of all, he saw the wide eyed fear in Sergei's eyes as Krum stood helplessly under the point of Marabella's wand, too startled to move.

"_Prente_!" she screamed triumphantly, and then added, "_Accio_ plans!"

She waited for something that didn't happen. Her arrogant smile turned to an enraged and puzzled snarl.

Dumbledore felt cool pinpricks of rain as feeling returned to his wand arm. He slowly raised himself up, and aimed his wand at the woman in red, who looked as if she planned on repeating whatever it was she had done before. As Dumbledore was uttering his counter spell, a blast shook the air around them as a bullet sped past him, and hit the woman in the shoulder.

Dumbledore sat up, and turned to see Jean Fulver standing next to Sergei, his cold blue eyes looking down on the woman, who had fallen to the ground. The pistol in Jean Fulver's hand still sent up spirals of smoke in the rain. Sergei shirked away from the Frenchman.

A strangled scream pierced the night, and then suddenly ended. It hadn't come from the wounded woman, but from Boris who was pinned to the ground by Johnny a few feet away, and looked to be having his throat ripped out.

Silence fell amongst the four men and wounded woman, a foreboding void that seemed to mute the crash of thunder around them. A collective breath was sucked into each of the companion's breast, as realization and understanding of the danger they had just avoided, and the danger that was coming, began to percolate in their minds.

Dumbledore stood up shakily, and glared at Sergei. He couldn't fathom what Krum could have been thinking when he got out of the carriage. The enemy had been too close to getting the plans, and now a new worry had cropped up in Dumbledore's mind. How had this Marabella and the man in black known to wait on this particular road for them? It wasn't a road commonly used to get to Hogwarts, hence why it was chosen. Dumbledore found the implications of this question to be nauseating. Someone close had let their location slip. He began thinking of all the people it could have been, running their names and faces through his mind. He hardly noticed Jean Fulver as the Muggle marched over to the woman on the ground.

Marabella had landed a few feet back from where she had been shot. Dumbledore doubted that she had ever seen a gun before nor had ever feared it, until tonight. The woman was wounded, but not on death's door.

Fulver stopped a few feet from the woman and pointed his gun at her, no doubt planning to finish the job, if she so much as moved an inch. Her wand had fallen from her hand, and lay a foot away from her. She writhed in pain. Seeing that Marabella was no longer a threat, Dumbledore turned from the woman on the ground, to his American friend, and the now dead man in black.

A few feet away from Dumbledore, Johnny stood over the dead man, looking down on his adversary in triumph. Wolfbane noticed Dumbledore was watching him, and quickly moved off of Boris. He turned his great big head up to the drowning sky, allowing the water to wash down his muzzle. He stood there for a few minutes, and then loped towards Dumbledore and Sergei, his body returning back to normal, the shadows hiding his transformation. When he had arrived by Dumbledore's side, he was back to his normal self, excepting two large gashes on his forearms, and some unseemly splashes of blood on his vest. The rain had washed the rest of him clean.

"The woman spoke of backup. We have to go," Johnny said. He started to walk back to the carriage.

Sergei crept close to Marabella, and then glared at Fulver, suddenly aware that the Frenchman had a gun in his hand. Krum whipped his head back around, his large, black eyes now filled with anger as he looked at Dumbledore.

"You didn't think to check Fulver for weapons?!" Sergei snapped.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in disdain, but it was Johnny who was angry. Wolfbane had been stopped in his tracks by Sergei's question, ripples of anger oscillating down his body. Johnny stalked over to the Sergei, who suddenly seemed to realize how dangerous the American could really be.

"You didn't think to tell us that you knew this woman, this Marabella? What else have you 'forgotten' to tell us?" he snarled.

Dumbledore, who had been silent in thought, walked over to Johnny, and laid a calming hand on his friend's shoulder.

Anger did ripple through Dumbledore, anger at himself, anger at Sergei's lack of sense, anger at the entire situation, but he had pushed that anger down, trying to hold it in as he best he could. He knew that Sergei was partially right. Albus should have checked the Frenchman for weapons, though he had little experience with Muggle weaponry.

Dumbledore was also puzzled with the Frenchman. He still couldn't understand why Jean Fulver had stepped in, and saved Sergei Krum. By the look on Fulver's face, the Muggle was having a hard time understanding this as well. Something had changed in both Dumbledore and Fulver. Dumbledore had always felt that Fulver was not evil or bad, had an inkling that the Muggle had only been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even though he knew that Fulver was not telling them everything, he also knew that Fulver did what was right and necessary when the choice had to be made. He was a good ally to have. Dumbledore now had a plausible reason to trust Jean Fulver.

"There's no point in arguing here. Let's get moving before their backup arrives. Johnny please release the horses from the spell their under," Dumbledore calmly said as he pushed himself between Wolfbane and Sergei. Both men backed down from the standoff they had been in, Sergei out of fear and Wolfbane out of respect.

Johnny strode off towards the carriage again, his hulking figure disappearing in the rain as he neared the horses.

"Mr. Fulver, Mr. Krum, please get back into the carriage."

"What about Marabella?" Sergei asked nervously.

Dumbledore looked down on the pale, groaning woman. Anger glimmered in her eyes, shimmering in between moments of pain. Fulver had not once taken his eyes off the woman, who now looked at the Muggle soldier in loathing. Oddly it wasn't Dumbledore who answered Krum's question.

"What about her?" Jean Fulver responded. "She attacked us. She's the enemy. Let her be found by her backup. It would be best if we didn't leave any loose ends."

Fulver cocked his gun, aiming it at Marabella's head. Sergei started forward, horrified.

"You can't shoot my cousin!" he blurted out.

"Cousin?!" Albus barked.

It was Dumbledore who was angry this time. He glared down on Sergei, seeming to grow taller by the moment. He was angry because he should have figured this out earlier. The pieces were falling into place around him, and Dumbledore suspected he was the only one who could see how much more dangerous their situation had become.

Before he could say more, Johnny had come back, slightly less irate, telling them that the horses were ready.

Dumbledore pointed an angry, shaking finger at Sergei's chest.

"You have got a lot of explaining to do. Let's go!" Dumbledore stormed over to the carriage, followed by Johnny, then Fulver and lastly by Sergei. They got in and were off in a matter of minutes, disappearing over the next hill.

After they had gone, Marabella lifted her wand, and weakly sent up sparks. Ten minutes later, a man appeared next to her. He picked her up, and Disapparated away.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8: PROFESSOR FREDERICK

The storm had worsened, sending down sheets of rain like shards of glass. Thunder rolled through the sky, and cracks of lightening lit up the dark night. Children ran every which way to get out of the rain, covering their heads with books, bags and some of the older students, protective spells. Professor Frederick stood at the main entrance, watching the students as they scuttled past him, amused by their rainy day antics. He had already had to stop a few mud fights, knowing full well that Mr. Borden, the caretaker, would not be too pleased with cleaning up after them.

Most students waved hello as they ran past the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. The students at Hogwarts generally liked Professor Frederick. He was a slight man, tall and shadow thin. He had squinty blue eyes and a receding hairline, which gave him a likeable, paternal air. He rarely raised his voice in anger, and used kindness rather than fear to discipline students. Most students found they could trust Professor Frederick because he was so patient. And most of the staff members respected him because he was a good teacher, but that was a side note to the fact that he had a famous cousin.

His real name was Frederick Dumbledore, son of Aster Dumbledore, whose brother was Albus Dumbledore's father. Frederick had lived in Albus Dumbledore's shadow all his life, and had grown accustomed to its quiet, forgotten interior. No matter what he achieved, or how many students loved him, Albus achieved more, did more, and was known by more. People had taken to calling Frederick by his first name rather than his last to avoid confusion. This was always a reminder that Professor Frederick was a nobody compared to Dumbledore. When he was younger it use to bother him as well as Aberforth, Albus' brother, but Frederick had gotten over it by now. In fact, he liked the quietness of normality. Albus had become well known and respected, but he had also gained enemies, and was always blamed and despised because of the actions of his father.

Frederick remembered very little of Dumbledore's father. He had been very young when the Ministry wizards had taken his Uncle, Percival Dumbledore, away to Azkaban, a place his Uncle would never leave. It was sad really. Percival had sought out the boys who had tortured his daughter, Ariana, into insanity, and made them pay. Because he was a wizard and a formidable one at that, all that worked against him when he was tried in front of the Wizengamot. Percival Dumbledore spent the rest of his life in Azkaban, and his family spent the rest of theirs in ruin. That kind of pain and darkness left a mark on people, on their lives and actions. His cousin Albus never showed that pain, never allowed it to interfere with his life, or with what must be done. Frederick found the man to be extraordinary and an enigma.

Albus had always been the brainy type, devising grand plans, and winning prestigious awards. Though Albus had always been kind to his cousin, and Frederick greatly respected Dumbledore, they had not become close friends. They trusted each other, and that seemed to make Frederick closer to Albus than his own brother. Aberforth, Albus' brother, was a little bit more subdued, and not as sociable. He was a decent wizard, but hardly ever used his ability. Aberforth didn't like the limelight as Albus did, instead content with farming, and setting up the new bar he planned on opening, the Hogshead. No, whenever Frederick had gone to visit his cousins, it was Ariana and her sweet kindness that he had always been drawn to. She would have been his age by now, if she were alive. Frederick shook his head, trying to forget how much he missed his old playmate. He could still feel a little ache remembering her, how she loved to make flower petals fall from the sky. Before the attack, Ariana was the mildest and most loving child that Frederick had ever met. The simplest things amused her: the wind, soft sunlight on a spring day, the smell of lavender and roses.

But nothing beautiful ever seemed to last. The time of innocence seemed to have dispersed over the winds like specks of dust. A harsh reality was all that was left. Frederick sighed, and looked out down the road. He was worried. _Albus should have been back by now_, he thought. The downpour of rain and the boom of thunder seemed to pound this thought deeper.

As Professor Frederick waited, he watched as the last of the students ran past him into the castle and noticed, to his surprise, that one student didn't seem too bothered by the tempest. A young boy dressed in secondhand robes had stopped in the middle of the courtyard completely oblivious to the rain falling around him. He was slender and tall, his smooth, white skin casting a pearly sheen in the flashes of light, as he tilted his handsome face up to the sky. The youth was intrigued by the raw, elemental power of nature, watching as the lightening staggered down from the heavens. He almost seemed to enjoy the darkness and chaos created by the storm.

Professor Frederick watched the boy, who had stopped a few feet from the doorway. It was the lightening that drew the youth's attention, not in awe or respect, but in curiosity. The fourteen year old boy analyzed the storm as if he could pick it apart, and finally understand true power. Professor Frederick knew that Tom Riddle wasn't like other children. Something lurked behind his seemingly innocent eyes.

"Riddle, what are you doing standing in the rain? Get back inside," Frederick said.

Tom Riddle seemed to snap back into reality from the sound of the Professor's voice. He nodded, and began running to the door, his poorly mended book bag, swinging back and forth in the rain. As he passed the Professor, he flashed Frederick a bright smile, and waved goodbye. Something about the smile, behind the smile, didn't fit with Frederick. It was a clever smile, a smile of one who devised plans and schemes. Professor Frederick thought about Riddle's odd behavior, replaying over and over again what it was he saw. The thing is, there was something there that he didn't understand, something that he had seen in Riddle. And then it hit him. Riddle was intrigued by power as well as the fear that that power can cause.

Frederick shook his head. Maybe he was just imagining things. Riddle was a model student. Everybody, students and teachers alike, loved him. Professor Frederick thought that his nervous state had made him overanalyze the boy's attitude. Maybe Tom had found the storm to be a spectacular show and nothing more. Riddle was just a child, not some devious demon sent to earth. Frederick decided to keep an eye on him though, just in case. Right now he didn't have time to worry about a boy, and his love of power, which could all be apart of the Professor's imagination. Right at that moment, he was waiting for the carriage which carried his cousin and a secret.

Professor Frederick turned his attention back to the road where he watched for his cousin's carriage. This time his vigilance was rewarded. Through the rain and flashes of lightening, Frederick could just make out a black carriage, pulled by a pair of tired horses as it wound its way up to the castle.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9: HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Jean Fulver had began to trust Dumbledore, and his magical world, until he saw the tumbledown ruins of a forgotten age. Then he was sure that he was being taken to a place to be tortured. The ride to the ruins had been awkward. Johnny and Dumbledore were still fuming over Sergei's lapse in judgment. Though no words were said, Fulver could feel the tension between the travelers. It was a cocoon of electricity, a field of unspoken words and thoughts. Krum had lost almost all of their trust, and Fulver felt his time was coming to gaining his revenge.

Fulver had not forgotten his revenge, even when he had been left alone with Krum. He could have easily have shot Sergei in the head, but then Jean would have had to deal with Dumbledore and Wolfbane. Dumbledore, he was pretty sure he could have handled, but he really didn't like his chances against the wolf man. And he most definitely would have lost the opportunity of getting a hold of the plans. That was his ultimate mission. It was the reason Marius had been killed. Those battle plans could not fall into the wrong hands.

After the encounter on the road, after he had shot the woman, Fulver began to consider his options more carefully. His companions were more fierce and noble than he had expected. If Dumbledore and Wolfbane were the enemy, why hadn't they just kill him already, why bother taking him with them at all? He still wasn't sure why he had shot the woman in the first place, if only to be sure that she didn't kill Sergei before he did. When Sergei mentioned that Marabella was his cousin, the world had flipped on its side for the Frenchman, and nothing seemed to make sense to Jean anymore. Fulver was beginning to feel that the situation was completely out of his grasp, and he hated feeling helpless, hated being dependent on other people, strangers even less. The Muggle started to accept that maybe Dumbledore had been telling the truth all along. It was the only truth that seemed to fit into the crevices of this odd journey.

But that was before he saw the ruins.

Sergei had been excited to see them, his body leaning out the carriage window, ignoring the cold rain to get a glimpse. Excitement reverberated throughout Krum's being, his head swiveled back and forth, like a young child. For a tiny moment, Sergei was a boy again.

"Hogwarts, at last," he said.

Johnny grabbed Sergei's shoulders, and dragged him back in, slamming the man roughly in his seat, and back into reality. Curious, Fulver leaned forward to look out the window, not knowing what to expect in seeing of this mysterious Hogwarts, but all he saw was an old, crumbling castle, whose walls were being eaten away by nature.

"Where are you taking me?" Fulver snapped, trying not to allow the alarm he was feeling seep into his voice.

Some of it must have slipped through because Sergei smiled a taunting grin, his eyes laughing at Fulver. Fulver felt his temper rise up, an unwieldy snake. He wanted to punch the man for his smugness. One stern look from the American made Fulver keep his seat. There was a time and a place to handle Krum, but this moment wasn't it.

"We've reached Hogwarts," Dumbledore stated.

"No, we haven't. We drove to a pile of ruins. If you planned on killing me, why not do it earlier?" Fulver blurted out.

"You jump to the strangest conclusions, Fulver," said Johnny. "We aren't going to kill you."

Fulver held his breath in the pit of his stomach, waiting to hear his fate. No fear or anxiety escaped from his face. He would not look the part of a coward.

"Hogwarts looks like a pile of ruins to a Muggle like yourself. It's a part of the enchantment that hides Hogwarts school from prying eyes," Dumbledore said.

"Muggle? Enchantment?" Fulver asked.

He wasn't sure if Dumbledore had called him a foul name by calling him a Muggle. The comment wasn't made in a jesting matter, which made him think it wasn't an insult, but an enchantment that hid an entire castle from people's eyes? That seemed too farfetched for Jean's imagination.

"A Muggle is the word we wizards use for people who have no magic in their blood. A Muggle can't see Hogwarts because its under a spell, and likewise can't see Dementors when they are attacking, which is what was attacking us in the alley."

"What Dementors? I didn't see anyone, but you three and those strange creatures of light you made," Fulver said stubbornly.

Dumbledore sighed, his patience wearing a thin veneer of civility.

"Mr. Fulver, I know that you must have a lot of questions, which is quite natural for someone who never suspected that a world of magic existed, but for the sake of my sanity, could you please stop arguing with me on every detail. When you were in the alley, do you remember feeling clammy, cold, drained of hope and happiness? Did you see your worst memory come back to you as if out of nowhere?"

Jean realized that that was exactly what had happened. When he had entered the alley, it felt as if he had hit a wall of ice, and he began to see Marius' death played over and over again in his mind, a fresh and strong memory that jabbed at his conscience. Fulver looked at Dumbledore, planned on saying something "smart", but then just settled with a nod of his head.

"It was a Dementor who made you see that memory. They feed off of hope and our happiest memories, leaving only our worst for us to live with. They are particularly nasty creatures, and the only spell that works against them are Patronuses, protective spells of good thoughts and happy memories, the happiest. As I said before, my Patronus was a phoenix and Mr. Wolfbane's was a bear."

"What do these Dementors look like?" Jean asked calmly more out of curiosity, then stubbornness.

"They look like grim reapers," replied Johnny. "They're tall, gliding creatures in black cloaks, with bony, decaying hands. They have black holes for mouths that can suck out your soul."

Jean waited for Wolfbane to say that he had been making a joke. When he didn't, Fulver shuddered at the idea that these creatures actually existed, and that he had been so close to them just a few hours before.

"If you like, Mr. Fulver, look out the window again. We should have past the enchantment's boundary by now. You will get a real look at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore said.

Jean looked again, expecting to see ruins, but found his breath had been caught in his chest by surprise and awe. Though the rain shrouded everything in a thick, gray veil, Fulver could still see the beautiful castle with its elegant turrets rising up to the sky. The castle sat on a hill above a mild lake like a king. It was huge, spreading its stone arches and peaked roofs out along the hilltop. Lush forests and rolling green hills surrounded the school, adding to its rich beauty. A thousand golden lights spilled out of its multitude of windows, melting away the cold rain and dark night. As they neared the school, the outer defensive wall that wrapped around the castle grew taller and taller, its formidable stony exterior built for warfare. Centered in the middle of the wall was huge, oak door six feet wide and twelve feet tall. The door, which must have been six inches thick, was braced by enormous iron straps. With a loud, stubborn creak the door opened on its own when the carriage had come close to it, and let them through. After they had passed into the school grounds, Fulver could hear the gate groan and then thud to a close.

The horses stopped just inside the gate, their impatient hooves splashing about the mud. Johnny took a quick glance out the window, and then gave Dumbledore the tiniest of nods. Albus pulled out his wand, and tapped Johnny on the head with it. A bright shimmer of light rolled over Wolfbane's body from his head to his toes, and then was gone. Next Dumbledore turned to Sergei Krum, who didn't even blink when Albus touched him with his wand, but when Dumbledore turned his wand to Fulver, Fulver backed away, warily eyeing the Professor. Irritation passed over Dumbledore's face.

"Do you wish to be soaked through again?" Albus asked, as he looked out the window at the downpour of rain. Heaven had opened up, and had unleashed its total fury.

Fulver looked to Johnny and then to Sergei. That taunting smile was back on Krum's face, and Fulver couldn't bear the thought of not doing something that that coward Krum did. Jean glared at Sergei, then leaned toward Dumbledore's wand. Albus lightly tapped his forehead, and Fulver felt the strangest and nicest feeling he had felt in a long time. It felt like warm water rippling down his skin, as wavy strands of blue light passed over his body, but the sensation was gone sooner than he had wanted.

Dumbledore and Johnny opened the carriage door, and got out. Sergei followed promptly, and Fulver leapt out last. Though it poured, not one drop of water fell on Fulver. In fact, he felt warm, as if he had been sitting next to a crackling fire.

The four men trudged forward down a path that wound up to the castle. The closer they got to the huge fortress, the more in awe Fulver became. He tilted his head back trying to see how far into the heavens the castle extended. It was a dizzy sight, the tops of the towers disappearing into the night sky. He brought his head down, and noticed that they had walked into a courtyard that led to the front door. Here and there, the lightening flashes illuminated marble benches and large trees. A four tiered fountain, whose basin was quickly filling with water, was standing next to the front door quite forlorn.

Fulver had been so enchanted with the school that he hardly noticed that the others had stopped. The Muggle had accidently ran into Wolfbane's back, staggering backwards from the impact. Johnny glared at Fulver for a moment, but then turned forward again.

Ahead of them was a monolithic, ornately decorated door, some fifteen feet high. Next to the door stood a tall, lean man in midnight blue robes, whom approached them as they walked up to the main entrance. Fulver analyzed the man, evaluating in his mind if he was a threat. Jean wondered if he would ever be able to look at someone anymore without pondering whether or not they were dangerous. The man passed Fulver's test. He seemed harmless enough. Dumbledore strode up to the man in the midnight blue robes, a huge grin covering his face.

"Frederick, it's so good to see you!" Dumbledore said.

Frederick smiled, and shook Albus' hand. He gave Wolfbane a polite and friendly nod of the head, and then turned his eyes onto the newcomers, Fulver and Sergei. Frederick's piercing blue eyes took in the Muggle first, minutely analyzing every aspect of the French soldier. It was a cold, unrelenting look. For a moment, a flash of anger and oddly enough, hatred, passed through Frederick's eyes as he looked down on the Muggle. Fulver doubted very much that this Frederick approved of him. Jean found he didn't care if he did or not, but it was still an unsettling feeling. It almost seemed like Frederick had taken a great dislike to Fulver, even though not one word had been shared between the two men.

The French soldier was not about to be intimidated by anyone. Fulver unflinchingly stared back, his face a blank slate. The tension between the two men only lasted a few seconds, but seemed to last an hour. Frederick blinked and turned away from Jean.

Fulver watched as Frederick turned his attention onto Sergei Krum, his eyes lingering on the Russian in curiosity.

"Let's get inside Frederick. There is much to discuss, some of which is not the best of news to be said in the open," Dumbledore said.

Frederick looked back at Fulver and then turned to Dumbledore, unsure if it was wise to let a Muggle in.

"I trust him Frederick. Now let's get inside," Dumbledore replied, almost as if he could read Frederick's mind. Fulver was grateful to Dumbledore for backing him up, and discovered a small seed of respect had been planted for the man with the half-moon spectacles. That still didn't alleviate the awkward feeling Fulver had in the pit of his stomach, that horrible feeling of intruding onto a society that really didn't want him. He would deal with it as he dealt with any unpleasant situation, head on without regrets.

"Yes, you're right. Headmaster Dippet is waiting for you and your counterparts in his office," Frederick said, confidence growing with every word. With that, Frederick turned, and marched through the open front door.

All doubt seemed to have faded away amongst the travelers, all except Fulver. Dumbledore followed Frederick through the entrance. Wolfbane went in next, and was followed by Sergei. Jean hesitated on the threshold of the castle, knowing that he was about to enter a foreign world, a wonderous and dangerous world. His head swam with all the possibilities that lay in front of him. Ahead Dumbledore, Johnny and Sergei walked through a wide hall to a grand stone staircase. Fulver sighed and walked into the castle, barely turning around as the immense wooden door that guarded the entrance shut behind him, blocking out the raging storm, and any possible escape.


	10. Chapter 10

Headmaster Dippet watched the door opposite of him with increasing unease, the snapping fire in the hearth behind him unable to thaw the feeling of dread through his body. The warmth and light from the flames spread throughout the Headmaster's room, illuminating the comfortable study with its orange and red fingers of light. Several plush armchairs faced his large desk, which stood near the fireplace. On the walls surrounding and behind the desk were moving portraits of the past headmasters and mistresses. Most times they pretended to be asleep, but tonight they were wide awake, alert and ready to give their opinions.

Headmaster Dippet could feel a dark tidal wave of events bearing down on him, on his school. He knew that Hogwarts was one of the safest places to hide Sergei Krum and his secret, but it terrified the Headmaster to think that he could be bringing horrible danger to his students and staff.

A long moment of anxiety stretched out in front of him, a thin, twisting cord of fear. The rain at least had dissipated a bit, turning from the torrential to the benign. Finally a knock at the door indicated that his guests had arrived. With a wave of his wand, the Headmaster opened the door.

Professor Frederick came through the door first, his calm, albeit unreadable face, a reassurance for Dippet. His measured steps brought him into the room with a surety of man who has everything well in hand. He moved to stand next to the Headmaster, and watched as the rest filed in.

Professor Dumbledore strode in next, his tall lean body imposing for a young man. His hair and robes were soaked through, and thunderclouds of anger and a bit of fear broiled in his bright blue eyes. Albus rarely had a look like this on his face, and this worried Dippet.

Next the American, Johnny Wolfbane, loped through the doorway, a huge being with bulging muscles. His thick, black hair fell limply around his face. His eyes roved around the room, a wilderness in them. Professor Dippet noticed dark stains were splattered across Wolfbane's vest. He didn't want to know where those stains had come from.

Both Johnny and Dumbledore walked over to the hearth, warming up a bit, but their eyes had never left the doorway they had just come from, a wary intensity stiffening their limbs.

The third man to enter was a stouter man in his early thirties. Dark hair covered his face and melded into the dark fur coat he had wrapped tightly around his body. He looked about the room in curiosity. His black eyes looked to be relieved, as if he had finally found his safe haven. And maybe he was right thought the Headmaster. This must be Sergei Krum.

But Professor Dippet had not expected to see a fourth man come through his door.

The lean youth moved through the doorway like a wildcat, his lithe gait smooth, powerful and deadly silent. His eyes immediately took in every aspect of the room, looking for possible threats. Those eyes were filled with wonder, but when turned on the Headmaster, steel gleamed out of them. The white haired youth came, and stood semi close to the others, close enough to hear, but far enough to get out of the way of danger. He was a wary man. The young man watched the Headmaster, not once letting his eyes drop or even flinch. Professor Dippet felt the alarm and fear he had been feeling rise up three more notches. The newcomer looked like his was a Muggle, but Dippet couldn't fathom how a Muggle had come to be mixed up in the matter.

Headmaster Dippet looked to Dumbledore, and back to his unexpected guest. Albus gave him a nod of reassurance, and the Headmaster's fear that had been building since the young stranger had entered the room subsided a bit. If Albus Dumbledore, his most gifted and respected teacher, trusted this young one, then Dippet could trust him as well.

The Headmaster gestured toward the chairs surrounding his desk, waving his wand, and creating a new chair out of thin air. The stranger in the old bomber jacket stared at the new creation in surprise and awe. He was definitely a Muggle. Everyone sat down, though the young man hesitated a moment, touching the armchair with his finger to be sure it was real. Sergei Krum stifled the tiniest of laughs. The young man scowled at Krum, and then plopped down into the armchair, which sat on the left of Dumbledore. The Headmaster noticed the odd interaction between the two men, but said nothing. With quick steps Professor Dippet swept around his desk, and sat down. The Headmaster turned to Dumbledore, waiting for an introduction of sorts and information. Dumbledore took his cue.

"Headmaster Dippet, I introduce to you Mr. Sergei Krum, who sits nexts to Mr. Wolfbane," Dumbledore said as he gestured to his right.

Krum sat closest to the fire, in between Frederick and Wolfbane. Albus sat in the middle on the other side of the American, and the young stranger sat on the other side of Dumbledore, closest to the window and farthest from Sergei Krum. The Headmaster wondered if that was intentional. Though this thought was on the Headmaster's mind, Dippet had not once turned his attention away from Sergei Krum. He gave Krum a courteous nod of his head, which was returned.

"It's good to finally meet you Mr. Krum. I know you've come a long way, and we shall get you settled in soon, but first I have to hear from Dumbledore," Dippet politely stated. Sergei nodded in response.

The Headmaster then turned to Albus and Johnny and said, "Dumbledore, Mr. Wolfbane you're late, and you bring a guest." The Headmaster wasn't quite as polite this time.

"This young man to my left is Mr. Jean Fulver, a Muggle French soldier who has gotten mixed up in our situation. There is a reason why we were late. We were ambushed at the Leaky Bucket by two Dementors, and later on the road coming here!" Dumbledore stated.

The Headmaster was thunderstuck by this statement, his aged eyes widening in terror. He opened his mouth to say something, and found his words to have disappeared. Dumbledore continued on.

"The situation is more dire than we had thought it originally was, some of which needs to be explained by Mr. Krum himself!"

All eyes turned to Sergei Krum, who seemed to sink more into his chair, a deep blush blooming over his rough features. It was Fulver's turn to grin.

"Mr. Krum, do you care to explain what Professor Dumbledore has said?" asked Dippet.

Jean Fulver felt the wicked laughter inside him bubbling up, and he hid it as much as he could behind his widening smile. He watched out the corner of his eyes as Sergei Krum began to squirm. When Sergei didn't answer, Headmaster Dippet turned back to Dumbledore and Johnny. Johnny had been sitting in a strange silence, his body tense, his eyes thoughtful as if he were beginning to see what Dumbledore had seen already.

"First things first. Are you absolutely sure that the Dementors were after Mr. Krum, and do you have any idea where they came from?" Dippet asked.

"I'm not sure who sent the Dementors, but I would make an inquiry at the Ministry of Magic, if I were you, as to why Dementors were in London, and not at Azkaban as they should have been. As for if they were after Krum well…" Dumbledore started.

"One of the Dementors had followed Krum out of the Leaky Bucket into the alley. The other came after. They would have gotten Krum if Jean Fulver hadn't burst out of the alley, and distracted them," Johnny answered, finishing off Dumbledore's thought. "I wouldn't have been able to hold both of them off, get Krum out of there, and deal with the Frenchman at the same time. If Dumbledore hadn't come when he did, they would have gotten Sergei Krum. Which, by the way, how did you know to come back, Albus?" Johnny turned to Dumbledore.

"I'm skilled at the art of Legilimency. I peeked into Tom the bartender's mind to see if he noticed anything odd that night. All I kept seeing in his mind was Jean Fulver and his strange actions. I knew that these things could not have been coincidence."

Now Headmaster Dippet turned his penetrating gaze to the young French soldier, whose turn it was to squirm. Jean Fulver had not expected to hear that Dumbledore could read minds, and he began to wonder how much Dumbledore really knew about him.

"Well young man, what have you to say for yourself? What were you doing at the Leaky Bucket, and how did you know to follow Sergei Krum?" Dippet asked.

He stared at Fulver as if he had already passed his judgment on him. _It's only a matter of procedure now,_ thought Jean. He felt a sickening anger churn his stomach up. Fulver knew he was going to be blamed for what had happened at the Leaky Bucket and on the road to Hogwarts. Things seemed to be falling through Fulver's hands like water. It was bad enough that Jean no longer knew which side he was on now, or what situation he was in, but now he was to be blamed for things he had never even known existed. He decided it best not to answer, not sure what to say.

"It's obvious by his silence that he's a traitor, and sent those Dementors after Krum. He probably alerted his counterparts to wait on the road as well!" Professor Frederick replied.

The comment hung in the still air, stunning those in the room. That hot broiling anger that Jean had been feeling intensified in the pit of his stomach.

Frederick looked on the Frenchman as if he were a worm. Fulver felt his mind unravel slowly like wet string. Now he really didn't know what to say. Everything pointed against him except the fact that he didn't know any Dementors, and had never seen the people on the road until tonight.

"Hold on a moment. Mr. Fulver was in the carriage with us all night. There was no way he could have alerted anyone to where we were taking him," Albus Dumbledore stated. "He had no idea where it was we would take him once we got out of the alley. Only key people here knew that location. As for the Dementors, Mr. Fulver had nearly ran straight into them, and was being attacked by them as well. Why attack the man that is suppose to be on their side? No, I don't believe Fulver sent those Dementors to the Leaky Bucket. I believe that _Mr. Fulver_ believes that he was after a Russian spy, but I also believe that he hasn't told us everything about his situation."

Jean Fulver was shocked again by Albus. Just when he thought he had come to understand his companions, they always surprised him. He couldn't help, but be grateful to the man, the only one who stood up for him. Johnny Wolfbane still seemed to be indecisive about whether or not Jean was a traitor. The Headmaster was along the same lines as Wolfbane. Professor Frederick seemed ready to send him to the guillotine, and Sergei hardly looked at him, only glancing up once and a while with looks of wild terror.

"Well, young man are you a spy for Grindelwald or not? What was it he promised to give you, immortal life, magic charms, treasures of sorts?" Dippet asked, his curt words falling like boulders on Fulver's ears. Fulver became flushed with anger.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I don't know of any Grindelwald, I don't know what enemy you're talking about. If it's the Germans you're referring too, you had better think again before you insult me like that. I am French and I fight to protect my country, which if you haven't heard has been invaded by Germany. As for magical charms, I didn't even know magic existed until this evening!"

"Then how did you know Mr. Krum had anything with him. How did you know about the plans at all ?" Dippet asked. The temperature in the air seemed to have fallen a fair few degrees.

"_He _ knows Sergei carries something? He has to be the traitor Headmaster!" stated Professor Frederick.

Jean Fulver didn't like being called a traitor, and especially didn't like Frederick's tone of voice. Rage mottled Jean's face.

"I'm no traitor. I'm just trying to get some justice, and make sure the plans don't fall into the hands of Germany!"

"Of course you don't want the plans to fall into the hands of Germany. You plan on giving the blueprints to Grindelwald!" A fierceness flew out of Frederick's mouth. Everyone was stunned to hear the usually mild mannered man so vociferous.

"Blueprints? No, I was following battle plans, ammunition reports. I don't know of any blueprints, and for the last time I don't know a Grindelwald!" Jean was angry, but his words stumbled in doubt and confusion.

Jean felt the walls contract in on him, a fox stuck in a trap, unable to get out, no matter how hard he tried.

"Enough! There's too much confusion in this room," Headmaster Dippet said, his booming voice bringing the room to a dead silence. He turned to Jean, his aged face stilled by calm and patience, but it also had a hardness of determination in his features.

"Mr. Fulver, how did you know that Sergei Krum carried anything at all, and what justice were you seeking?"

Jean didn't know what to do. He really didn't know what was going on. What was once anger and stubbornness, was now a marsh of doubt. He began to consider the possibility that he had the wrong information. Jean decided to tell the truth, a portion of it at least.

"My friend and I have been tracking Sergei for awhile. My friend had gotten information from a secret source I'd never met that Mr. Krum was carrying sensitive information, and was going to sell it to Germany. I followed Sergei when he boarded a train in Moscow. I almost lost him when he boarded a ship in the Mediterranean. I finally followed him all the way to England, the last place I thought he would come."

"And where is your friend now? Did he follow Sergei as well?" Dippet asked.

"My friend is dead. He died in Russia, when he tried to retrieve the plans from Mr. Krum's family manor. Little did we know at the time that Sergei Krum had already left and gone to Moscow. I went on alone. I have no idea what happened at the Leaky Bucket, or on the road, or who sent those people," Jean ended his words flawlessly, never once showing his confusion, and never allowing the sudden horrid lump of sadness, that had appeared in his throat, to take over.

He kept his steadfast eyes on the Headmaster, allowing the man to read him, and see that he told no lies, maybe half truths, but no lies. Headmaster Dippet leaned back in his chair for a moment, and contemplated the young Frenchman and his words. Everyone waited with an abated breathe for the outcome.

Dumbledore finally understood why Jean was so angry with Krum all the time. He also knew there was more to the story than that, but he let Fulver keep those facts to himself. They weren't important for now. It was highly improbable that, out of all the people living in Russia, that a Muggle source of information would point to Sergei Krum as a spy. On the outside, Krum had been a successful banker, a nice, normal Muggle job. No, someone else had fed Fulver, and his friend the information about Sergei, someone of the magical community. Dumbledore had guessed this before, but now began to consider that maybe Jean had truly never met his friend's contact, and really didn't know what was going on.

"I believe you for now. There is something going on here that is not fully explained. Dumbledore has vouched for you. Don't prove him wrong," Dippet said, and then he turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, you said there was something more, something that Mr. Krum has to explain for himself?"

Dumbledore nodded, and once again the conversation had moved back to Sergei Krum, who had been sitting silently, hoping not to be noticed. Krum begged Dumbledore with wide, terror riddled eyes not to have to speak. Dumbledore sighed, and decided it was best to at least start the conversation, even if Sergei was forced to end it.

"As I said before, we were ambushed on the road by two people a man named Boris and a woman named Marabella. When they were attacking us, Marabella tried to use a Binding spell on Sergei, in an attempt to steal the plans from him. When it didn't work, she was going to try again, until Mr. Fulver shot her," Dumbledore said.

Headmaster Dippet jerked in his seat, and looked once more on the French soldier. He didn't think he could find himself more surprised, but found he was wrong. He wasn't the only one to be shocked by the information.

"Wait, Jean Fulver protected Krum?" Frederick asked incredulously.

"Yes, he saved my life," said Sergei Krum, the last person anyone expected to answer.

Jean Fulver's eyes almost burst out of his head. He couldn't believe that his enemy was now standing up for him. The world had flipped over completely. Jean's head was dizzy with it.

"Now I really don't know what's going on, but please continue Albus. What happened to the other man?" stated a very confused Headmaster.

"I took care of him," Johnny replied, his words were like slabs of concrete dropped on everyone from on high. Headmaster Dippet finally understood the stains on Wolfbane's vest, and felt a nauseous feeling bubbling up inside him.

"Headmaster, the problem has become more complex than we originally thought," stated Dumbledore, bringing everyone's attention back to the situation they were in.

"This woman on the road, this Marabella was Sergei Krum's cousin. Not only is she blood, but she has magic in her. According to the information that Mr. Krum had given me himself, the plans can not be destroyed, and they can not be far from Mr. Krum or a member of his family. If the plans were ever far from Krum or a family member, they would explode, and take out everything within a thousand feet of them. This also suggests that Marabella, a magical and blood relation to Sergei Krum, should have been able to bind and take the plans from Sergei, who said himself he has no magical powers. The plans should have transferred over to her. It should have worked and it didn't. This is what I've put together, but now Mr. Krum has to explain the rest."

This new information struck everyone hard in the stomach. The Headmaster realized that something much bigger was going on, and that Sergei Krum could be in more danger than they originally thought and thus could attract more danger. Dumbledore was right. If those were the rules that govern that type of magic, Marabella should have been able to bind the blueprints to her, and take them from Sergei. It was obvious that she thought that would have worked, or else she wouldn't have wasted her time. Things _were_ more complicated. Everyone's eyes now rested on Krum, whose face was now a bright red, but at least he was looking up, no longer trying to hide in his seat. Sergei Krum knew his time had come for him to tell his side of the story.

"You're right Dumbledore. I don't have magical powers, and Marabella should have been able to bind the blueprints to her. The ancient family spell that protected the plans would have worked against me, and given the plans over to any family member who bound the blueprints to them. My Uncle foresaw this problem, seeing as I wouldn't have been able to protect myself against magic. He worked for months on tinkering with the family spell, and secretly altered it. The plans are no longer tied to just the family, but are only tied to me, to my life."

Suddenly, Sergei Krum stood up, and opened his large fur coat, which he had had wrapped so tightly around him all night. Expecting to see a bundle of documents of some sort or a package, everyone was surprised when all they saw was an ordinary loose white shirt and black slack pants. A rough, opaque scar rippled over Krum's pale collar bone, and sliced down his chest, disappearing under his shirt.

"Where are the blueprints?" asked the Headmaster.

Sergei closed his eyes, and the scar on his collarbone began to pulsate with a white light. Soon glimmers of a parchment with scrawls of writing and complex diagrams began to shimmer in the air in front of Krum. There was a sudden gasp of understanding as Krum opened his eyes, and the blueprints disappeared.

"Now you understand. The blueprints are inside of me, in my mind, in my soul. They're a part of me. If I'm killed, the plans will still explode, but would also destroy themselves in the process."

Everyone was stunned in silence as they tried to digest the new information. Everyone except Fulver, who was now looking on Sergei with a mixture of begrudging respect and incredulous disbelief. He had been awestruck by the news that the plans he had been following all along were not pieces of papers or a package, but a man. He began to really wonder why Marius had been told of these plans to begin with, and suspected his source was the real reason Marius was dead. Fulver found a bud of respect growing inside him for Krum, and was horrified by the sentiment. He had been determined to hate Sergei, but he had to admit that it must have taken a lot of courage to not only put much coveted blueprints inside his own body, but a ticking bomb as well. It at least explained the man's anxiety.

"What exactly are these plans anyway? Why are they so important?" Fulver asked intrepidly.

The silence had been broken.

Everyone looked upon the Frenchman as if he was either someone not to be trusted or had said something incredibly stupid. He didn't really care what the others thought of him. Battle strategies and troop movements were bad enough for Jean to allow the enemy to get, but blueprints for something that caused an uproar in the magical community was much, much worse.

"What? I can't know what it was you were calling me a traitor for? Did I not pass your test, or are you still going to treat me like a pariah?" Fulver snapped, that old anger rising up again.

Dumbledore's keen eyes twinkled. He really didn't think Fulver was working with the enemy, but he really didn't know how much he could tell him. It would be best if the plans remained a secret, and Dumbledore only had a vague idea what the weapon Sergei carried blueprints for could do from his contact, Sergei's Uncle. It was Sergei's Uncle, the one who was now in hiding somewhere in Bulgaria that wrote to Dumbledore, and told him to met his nephew at the Leaky Bucket. It was Sergei's uncle who told him the secret password that would identify him to Krum. And it was Sergei's uncle, who had done a very brave and dangerous thing that may have saved or doomed them all. Sergei's Uncle couldn't write much to Dumbledore about what it was Krum carried, but Dumbledore had guessed it must be a horrible weapon of some sort for this amount of action to be taken. Since Jean Fulver was honest to an extent, so could Dumbledore be. To an extent.

"As far as I know, the blueprints are of a weapon that could cause a massive and devastating attack if used on the magical community. It could wipe out all non magic people born to a magical family like Sergei, and all Muggle-born witches and wizards in one blow within the weapons impact radius. I don't know how big of a radius this weapon could reach, but knowing Grindelwald, it'll be large," Dumbledore stated.

It sounded to Jean as if these blueprints were more like plans for a magical atomic bomb, and was going to be used much in the same manner. The horror of this shook Fulver's body. He knew of the hatred there was out there right now, insane ideologies of pure blood and racial cleansing. It depressed him to think that even in the world of magic, that stain of hatred had come through.

Jean began to say something, but found he couldn't. He looked again at Sergei, and found he felt sympathy for the man. Krum had agreed to carry within his own body the very blueprints for a weapon that could be used against him, could kill him. Even now, it was more than likely those plans would still kill Krum. There was so much new information for Jean to process that he found his head felt weighed down by it. He no longer wanted to care, because if he didn't care about what was happening in the world, it wouldn't hurt as much.

"It's late and we have a lot to do in the coming days. Professor Frederick please show Mr. Krum, Mr. Fulver and Mr. Wolfbane to their new rooms. I'm sure there is an extra room we can make up for Mr. Fulver," stated the Headmaster.

Professor Frederick got up smoothly, his once angered face, now a passive, unreadable mask. He motioned to Johnny, Sergei and Jean, who got up wearily from their chairs, and followed him out the room. Jean still looked at Frederick with distrust and anger. Albus Dumbledore stood up and walked over to the now standing Headmaster, watching as the others left the room. As soon as they were gone, Headmaster Dippet turned to Dumbledore.

"Are you sure we can trust this Jean Fulver? It's odd that a Muggle should come to know that Sergei Krum has anything at all!" Dippet said.

"There were plenty of times when Mr. Fulver could have killed Sergei, which for our sakes, considering the new information, is a blessing in disguise. I generally believe he had no idea about the Dementors in the alley. I trust the young man. He did save Sergei Krum's life, and the plans. That will have to do for now. I agree with you that he hasn't told us everything yet, but we have a bigger problem."

"Bigger than all the other problems that seemed to have followed Sergei Krum from Russia?"

"Maybe not as big, but big enough to really worry me," Dumbledore whispered. "Someone did alert Grindelwald's people which road to Hogwarts we would be on, which is not one of the more traveled roads to the school. That should have been a secret. I believe we have a traitor amongst us, someone very close who knew that we would be using that particular road!"

"Find the traitor Albus, but be discreet. We don't want accusations and panic spreading throughout the castle, especially not in these dark and tense times. If you have to work with anyone, trust only those you would trust with your life." Fringes of panic already had seeped into the Headmaster's words.

Dumbledore gave the Headmaster a stern nod of his head, his eyes ablaze with determination. Anyone who had ever seen this look on Albus Dumbledore's face knew he meant business. He was going to find the traitor before any more damage could be done.

Dumbledore left the Headmaster's room, and headed to his own room. A heaviness had settled on his shoulders, a despairing weight that could drain him of all hope. He had a lot to do and so very little time to do it in.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11: MEETING TOM

The following days after the storm were emerald and gold. Verdant life sprung up everywhere, turning the rolling hills into swells of green. The sky was wide and blue, with clean puffs of white clouds dotting the landscape of heaven. Veils of golden light fell onto everything the sun touched, and sweetness gilded the wind. It was in those days that it was good to be alive. It was in those fine summer hours, where there was no darkness, or horror of war looming on the horizon. It was a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, and for the children that attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a time of joy and fun.

The students of Hogwarts had become restless, after being cooped up in doors for the past week. The tests for the end of the year were finishing up, and soon many of the students would be going home, but for now they could run about the grounds, and enjoy the good weather.

Most importantly, the end of the year Quidditch match was coming up, and the excitement in the air was electric. The match was to take place between the two greatest rival houses, Slytherin and Griffindor. The intensity between the teams, and their respective supportive fans grew as taunting and soon pranks of all kind were taking place. Though some of the pranks and some of the taunts were mean and a little dangerous, most of the students were filled with uplifted spirits. They didn't have to worry about the horror in the world, not when the days were nice, and there was an exciting game to look forward too. Even the teachers were in good spirits, allowing the children to get away with more things than normal as the match drew closer.

The mirth and joy was so contagious that even Jean Fulver was not immune to it. After spending his first night at the castle in a fit of restlessness and unease, especially after all the information he had attained, he really didn't know how he would respond to this new world of magic. It was one thing to see Dumbledore and Johnny perform a few spells here and there, but now he was going to be surrounded by people, children none the less, who could do so many things he had never even imagined before.

The ripple of anxiety he felt was similar to what he had felt the first time he had gone to the prestigious academy both he and Marius had attended when they were little boys. Marius, being from a wealthy family, had been able to assimilate easily, but Jean had known he was going to have a rough time of it. Marius had been there to guide him through the social layers of the school, and soon Jean had found his place.

But Marius was gone and Jean was in the same situation with no one to lean on. Well almost no one. Jean didn't think that Sergei Krum counted.

At first Fulver thought it best if he stayed indoors, eating the meals that magically appeared on his writing desk every morning and evening. The first time the food had appeared, it had startled him so suddenly that he almost knocked the dish to the floor. He spent the rest of that day watching the plate, waiting to see the magic that brought him his food, but after spending hours staring at an empty plate, Jean Fulver soon thought he would go mad. He couldn't possibly spend the rest of his days there ( and for all he knew that could be a long time) watching an empty plate. After seeing the outside of the magnificent castle on the first night, and experiencing magic for himself, Jean Fulver's curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to explore the castle, and he wanted to see more magic, but he didn't think it wise to do it alone.

Fulver decided it best if he stayed very close to the corridor he was lodged in, which according to Dumbledore, was the place where the teachers stayed during the course of the year. Sergei's room was right next to Jean's and Fulver wasn't quite sure what they meant by doing that. They hadn't roomed Wolfbane near them, in fact neither Krum nor Fulver had seen Dumbledore or Wolfbane since the night they had arrived. Fulver knew they wouldn't let Krum go unwatched for too long.

Sergei didn't seem too worried that he was not guarded. He felt like the entire castle was his protector, and he was certain of his safety. Krum was more at ease in the castle, and was always out and about. Fulver hated crossing paths with Sergei because Krum would always remind him in his unique and smug fashion how Fulver was too much of a coward to go past his room. It wasn't fear that kept Jean in the corridor, but a wariness, something that seemed to have been ingrained into his character by now. He couldn't go anywhere without looking for possible threats and possible exits. He was a soldier after all.

On his third day at Hogwarts though, Fulver felt more relaxed and calm. He could sense the difference in the air around him as he watched the teachers pass his door. The teachers were of all shapes and sizes (one of which was a dwarf and one the tallest woman Fulver had ever seen). Most times they said hello, and had even stopped to chat with the Muggle, quite intrigued by the world Jean had come from. The teacher's didn't treat Jean as if he were inferior. In fact, most of the teachers were a little intimidated by the soldier, aware that, though he may not be able to do magic, he had other weapons at his disposal. Only two didn't seem too pleased that he was there, Professor Frederick being one and another teacher Fulver had never seen before.

Professor Frederick's initial aggressive behavior and dislike for Jean had simmered down to a quiet disapproval. He ignored Fulver any time they met, and Jean wasn't in the least perturbed by it.

The other teacher on the other hand, was blatantly opposed to a Muggle sharing the same corridor with the staff. He made it clear that he thought that Fulver was a nuisance, and always seemed to go out of his way to say a snide remark as he passed Jean's door. This disagreeable teacher skulked down the halls, his long limbs making him look more like an ape than anything else. A permanent scowl twisted his pockmarked face, and by the way the other teachers avoided him, he was not well liked. He was always in black, except for a silly silver and green scarf he wore. The man seemed to hate the very sight of Jean, and Fulver had no idea why nor did it affect him at all. He never cared before for other people's approval, and he wasn't going to start now.

Fulver did find out that the odious skulking teacher was the Potions master, and his name was Professor Vikious. He was one of the reasons Jean stayed near his room. Fulver was suspicious of the man, and wanted to keep an eye on him, but Fulver had to admit that even Vikious couldn't keep the Muggle entertained for very long.

So on his third day at Hogwarts, Fulver was pleasantly surprised by an unexpected visitor, after he had intended to spend another dull day indoors. The visitor had come in the early morning hours, and had knocked on his door. When Jean had opened the door, he saw a young, rounded shouldered boy of fourteen. Dressed in a long, black robe with a red and gold scarf wrapped around his waist, the young boy looked up at Jean through his kernel yellow hair with the largest brown eyes. He ambled forward, his small body rocking left and right as his uneven legs brought him closer. He was smaller than most thirteen year olds, but that had mostly to do with his physical abnormality. The boy's physical body didn't hinder him at all. He moved forward quicker than Jean thought he could. Intelligence and enthusiasm poured from the boy's eyes. He offered his hand to Jean.

"Hello, my name is Tom. You must be Jean Fulver!" stated the young boy as he shook Fulver's hand.

"Hello. Has someone sent you? Why are you here?" Jean replied, a little rougher than he intended. Tom flinched, dropping his hand and eyes at the same time. Guilt immediately began to rise in Fulver. He never meant to be so harsh.

"Don't mind him!" called out a familiar voice behind Tom. "He's always this rude!"

Sergei Krum appeared behind the young boy, dressed in mauve robes, and sneered at Fulver. Jean thought he looked ridiculous in that flowing gown, but realized that most people here wore robes. Fulver wasn't going to be caught dead in any type of robe.

"Krum, if you don't watch your mouth, your cousin won't be the only one I'll shoot," Fulver replied, as he glared at Sergei.

The Muggle's hand moved slightly closer to his waist, and patted the bulk he hid under his bomber jacket. Although Jean had cleaned himself up, he still wore his old clothes, despite the black robes that had appeared near his bed every morning. Sergei's face paled a bit, and his smile wavered, but did not fall completely. Tom threw terrified glances at the two men, one who was ready for a fight, and one who was ready to flee.

"Come, come Fulver. Don't scare the kid, especially since Dumbledore sent him to meet us, and show us around the castle," Sergei replied.

Jean relaxed a bit, his anger slowly peeling back. He wasn't as angry at Sergei as much as he had expected himself to be. And he definitely never meant to scare a child. Fulver gave Tom the kindest smile he had in him which was hardly a grin, but soon the child was at ease again.

"Are you sure it was the boy who was afraid?" Jean smarted.

Sergei sighed and rolled his eyes. Fulver was glad that he could frustrate the man. Tom had relaxed a bit more, still sensing there was tension between the two men, but nothing that could erupt into a conflagration.

Jean walked out his door, closing it behind him, and stood on the other side of Tom, who looked up on the taller Frenchman with what seemed to be a little bit of admiration. Tom had never met such a Muggle before.

"So Dumbledore sent you?" Jean asked Tom, who was now leading Jean and Sergei out of the teacher's corridor to a long, twisting stone staircase.

"Yes. He says he's sorry that he couldn't personally show you around, but he has a lot he has to do. He asked me to show you the castle and the grounds. Later on, we'll be going to see the end of the year Quidditch match between Slytherin and Griffindor, but first we're going to the Great Hall for a spot of breakfast."

The excited youth literally skipped down the stairs when he mentioned the match. Fulver didn't know what Quidditch was, or who Griffindor and Slytherin were. He felt a little embarrassed to have to ask Tom what seemed so natural to him. Jean sensed that he was going to be feeling like this more and more often, and would have to get over the embarrassment sooner or later.

"I love Quidditch," Sergei stated, his eyes flitting ever so slightly in Fulver's direction, not in arrogance, but in empathy. "My father used to take me to some games in Russia where they would play in all kinds of weather. Some of my fondest memories were at games played in snowstorms, but I don't know how it is in England. You mentioned that the match today was to be played between Slytherin and Griffindor. Who are these teams?"

For once Jean was relieved by something Krum did, and wasn't sure how he should feel about that. He knew Sergei had just saved him the necessary pain of asking Tom these very questions, and Fulver had no idea why Krum had done it. Despite his raging curiosity to Tom's answer, Fulver feigned disinterest. Instead he pretended to be interested in the decorative statues and ornate doors they passed. The castle was just as beautiful on the inside as the outside.

"Griffindor and Slytherin are two of the four houses at Hogwarts," stated Tom. "Each year students are separated out into these houses according to their skills. Griffindor is known for their bravery, Slytherin for their ambition and cunning, Ravenclaw for their cleverness and wit and Hufflepuff for their loyal, hardworking demeanor. Griffindor and Slytherin are the two houses that have the biggest rivalry in the school, especially in Quidditch."

"That's very interesting," Sergei said with some unease.

Jean heard the difference in tone, and turned from his admiration of his curious surroundings to the now distressed Sergei. They had made it down the stairwell, and were now walking down a large hall. Sergei wasn't as confident as he use to be, and Jean couldn't understand what had brought along the change. Tom's next words cleared up the matter to Jean.

"Didn't they have houses at the school of magic that you went to?" Tom asked innocently.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be the one question Sergei had been dreading to answer, and Jean could see the now familiar pattern of avoidance in Krum. Sergei turned beet red, and shuffled his feet as he murmured an unheard answer.

"What was that, Mr. Krum?" Tom asked.

"He said his school was a little different, and didn't have houses exactly," said Fulver.

Jean wasn't really sure why he had stepped in for Sergei. From the look of relief on Sergei's face, it was obvious that he was glad that Fulver did. Maybe Jean felt like he had to even the score with Krum for the earlier questions, or maybe deep down he had felt a twinge of empathy.

They walked the rest of the way down the hall in silence. It was quiet with hardly anyone up yet. Occasionally when they passed by a room, movement could be heard on the other side of the doors, but for now they were the only ones up and about. Silence floated down the hall after the trio, strangling any comfort they had had.

"So what house are you in?" asked Jean casually.

Tom seemed to be glad that Fulver had spoken, feeling a bit awkward after the last question. He brightened up a bit. Out of the corner of Fulver's eye, Jean saw that Sergei also seemed to have perked up as well.

"I'm in Hufflepuff," Tom replied.

"Hardworking and loyal. That seems like a good fit," said Jean.

Tom smiled widely. He seemed to be particularly happy that Fulver had paid him a compliment.

"My father was, at first, disappointed that I hadn't been put in Griffindor, even though he had never heard of Hogwarts before I had gotten my letter saying I got in. Professor Dumbledore had to convince my father to let me come."

"Why did your father want you to be in Griffindor?" Sergei asked timidly.

"Who doesn't want their kid to be apart of a house that is brave? But I reminded him that my house had just as good of qualities as any of the other houses, and fit me perfectly. After I explained that to him, he seemed to be quite pleased with my house."

"You said that your father hadn't even heard of Hogwarts before you got accepted. What did you mean by that?" Jean asked as they moved down the hall.

" My father is a Muggle and as far as I know so was my mother. My father is the bartender and owner of the Leaky Bucket. Dumbledore said that you two met my father already."

Jean was stunned to hear that this child was the bartender's son. Sergei and Jean shared a look. They knew that it was children like Tom who would be the first to be killed by the weapon that Sergei had hidden in his mind. Tom looked up at his two companions, his sweet, innocent expression waiting for an answer. Anger at this Grindelwald for wanting to hurt children like Tom flickered up in Jean. It was people like Grindelwald that Fulver had joined the war to stop. Now he knew whose side he was on.

"Yes, we met your father," answered Sergei. "He was a good man."

More and more children appeared around them, coming down stair cases, or up from a lower part of the castle. They chattered merrily as they passed, most were milling about the foyer of a large door. Everywhere the colors of red and gold or silver and green were seen. Jean guessed they were the team colors worn by the fans. Fulver had caught some of the kids looking at him, most with awe, some in disgust. He realized that it was only the ones with the silver and green scarves that looked at him in disgust. Jean Fulver glared back and soon heads dropped.

"Tom, which team colors is silver and green?" asked Jean.

"Slytherin," Tom said, a strain of dislike seeping into his words.

"You don't like them much?" asked Sergei.

"It's not that I don't like them, it's that they don't like people like me. Slytherin only really like pureblood witches and wizards. Everyone else they consider to be inferior," Tom's words shook with anger.

Tom paced back and forth in front of the main doorway in the hall, not willing to look up at his companions. Jean didn't understand what Tom had meant by that, but Sergei seemed to understand all too well. Fear radiated out of him. Any confidence Krum had once had was gone. Sergei wouldn't look at any student who wore silver and green, afraid to meet their eyes. Fulver had no intention of being intimidated by a bunch of school kids.

"What do you mean 'people like you'?" Jean asked, although deep down he already knew the answer, but it wasn't Tom who gave him the reply.

"Some people believe that magic should stay in all pureblood magic families, shouldn't be sullied by Muggle blood mixing in," stated Sergei. "They call themselves purebloods and are proud of it. People like me and Tom don't fit in well with people like that."

A dark cloud descended on Sergei. There was something else going on, some horrible past that haunted Krum.

Both Jean and Tom were surprised by Krum's answer, though for different reasons. Tom was surprised by how much Sergei knew about that type of pureblood mania, and Fulver was surprised by the amount of pain and fear he had heard in Sergei's voice. An understanding began to form in Fulver's mind, pieces falling like raindrops on Fulver's fertile thoughts.

"Let's get inside the Great Hall and get something to eat," Tom said, as cheerfully as he could, trying to dispel the momentary darkness that had fallen over them. "Dumbledore said that you could sit with me at the Hufflepuff table. Not many of the students will be in there at the moment, so you won't feel too uncomfortable. Afterwards, we have a lot to see!"

And with that Tom turned, and marched through the door they had been standing in front of. Sergei and Jean followed close behind. As they entered the Great Hall, once again Jean's breath seemed to be taken from his lungs. The hall was huge, being 50 feet long and thirty feet wide. Four long, wooden tables stretched from the doorway to the elevated table and pulpit, where Fulver assumed the teacher's ate.

Covering the walls of the Great Hall were four different banners. One was red and gold and had a proud lion in the center, the second was blue and bronze with a regal eagle in the middle. The third Jean recognized as Slytherin with the silver and green colors and a great serpent in the center. He thought the symbol was appropriate for such a house. The last was a yellow and black banner with a noble badger in the middle.

But it was the ceiling that made Fulver's head spin. When he looked up, expecting to see a normal cobwebbed, arched ceiling, instead he saw the deep blue of a perfect sky with soft fluffs of clouds. Jean rubbed his eyes, and looked again at the ceiling, forgetting that he had stopped in the middle of the rows. The clouds had changed, but nothing else. He hadn't realized that he was alone, and that Tom and Sergei had gone on to the Hufflepuff table which stood on the far right.

"It's bewitched," said a voice behind him, undulations of maturity and childhood mixing together.

Jean looked down, and saw a fourteen year boy in a black robe looking back. The boy was tall for his age, his jet black hair falling around the beginnings of a handsome face. Dark eyes stared at Fulver, half amused and half something Jean couldn't quite put his finger on. There was intelligence in those eyes, but also a darkness. They were steady and studied Jean as if he were an intriguing species of some kind. Fulver stared back, unable to think up a reply to the new and startling information he had received. Jean noticed the boy wore a silver and green scarf wrapped neatly around his neck like a coiled snake.

"The ceiling is bewitched to look like the sky above. Looks like today will be a good day for a Quidditch match," the boy continued, turning his eyes up to the ceiling, a look of awe and happiness filling his face.

The stirrings of danger that had been percolating in the back of Fulver's mind, eased a bit when he saw that look. For that one moment, the boy looked like a normal child. The moment was soon gone, and the alarms in Jean's head went off when the youth looked back down again. That look of joy had been replaced by that one thing that Fulver couldn't put his finger on. The emotion flashed across the boy's face, and was gone, but Fulver was sure he had seen it somewhere before.

"You seem too old to be a student. Are you the new Muggle Studies teacher?" the youth asked.

Before Fulver could answer, he noticed two lanky thugs of fifteen slouch up behind the young boy. Their open mouth stare showed that they had never seen a Muggle like Fulver before. Jean squared his shoulders, as he stared the new boys down. They must have gotten the hint that this was one Muggle they shouldn't mess with, because their eyes dropped. The fourteen year old, the obvious leader of the pack didn't even bother introducing the two new kids, instead his shrewd eyes analyzed everything about Fulver. There was that flash of emotion again, but this time Fulver realized where he had seen it before. Marius always had that look when he was planning something, usually something very naughty. The look that Marius had was different only in intensity. Jean knew his friend, and knew Marius may have been a schemer, but would never hurt an innocent person. This kid was different. Something wicked lurked in those seemingly innocent eyes, but only for a fraction of a second. Most times, the kid looked like a normal child.

"Tom!"

Jean turned and saw the bartender's son, Tom Jr., coming towards him, Sergei not far behind. Krum noticed the scarfs that all three of the new boys wore and blanched. Annoyance at Krum began to return. Wasn't there anything this man wasn't afraid of?

"You're both named Tom?" Jean asked as Tom Jr. came up behind him.

"Yeah. This is Tom Riddle." And Tom Jr. pointed at the lead boy.

A wave of anger washed over Tom Riddle's face, and then disappeared. Fulver caught the strange look, but nothing of anger came out of Tom Riddle's mouth. Instead a smirk formed on the youth's perfect lips.

"Yes, that _is_ what most people like to call me," Riddle responded.

Behind Riddle, his two cronies tried hard not to laugh and failed miserably. They only stopped when Riddle gave them a stern look.

"I see you're supporting Griffindor," said Riddle and he pointed at Tom Jr.'s scarf.

Fulver could hear a slight menace behind the words. Tom jr., the ever innocent child that he was, had no idea how dangerous this Riddle was. He answered the Slytherin in a open, artless manner.

"Well we all have to choose a side," said Tom Jr.

"Oh yes. We all must choose a side sooner or later," Riddle calmly replied.

Once again, his two friends tried to unsuccessfully stifle their laughter. Fulver could see there was something else being said by Riddle, that only his two friends understood. Tom Jr. was confused by the answer, but not scared by it. Fulver noticed that Sergei had picked up on the same things as Jean had, because Krum looked on Riddle with a mixture of terror and puzzlement.

"See you at the game," Riddle said, and he and his friends walked to the Slytherin table, which just so happen to be the one just to the left of the Hufflepuff table.

Tom jr. thought nothing of the encounter, and turned back to his table, saying something to Krum about the wonderful food they were about to eat. Soon the two men and boy had arrived at the Hufflepuff table. Tom Jr. had been right. Hardly any other people were at the Hufflepuff table or in the Great Hall for that matter.

Fulver half listened to their conversation, only noting how the topic of food seemed to be the only thing that really animated Sergei Krum into a superfluous amount of speech. They all sat down in front of empty plates, and watched as the table began to fill with platters of food.

Fulver half watched Tom and Sergei start to pile their plates with food, but most of his concentration was on watching Riddle and his gang one table over. Something wasn't right about the Riddle boy, and when Jean sneaked another look at Riddle, not only did he notice that the gang that surrounded Riddle had grown at the Slytherin table, but he caught Riddle looking back at him in an enigmatic way.

Jean turned back to his companions, wondering if they too had noticed the strange behavior of Tom Riddle. Though Krum had had an original unease about Riddle, his anxiety seemed to have disappeared completely by the sight of food. Tom jr. had never even considered the possibility that his peer may be a bad seed. The two continued to talk about food and Quidditch, their excitement growing the longer they talked of the match. Jean remained silent in the conversation, not even sure what this game of Quidditch was like. Tom seemed eager that Fulver joined the conversation, completely forgetting how little Jean knew of their world. It was only when Jean had stopped eating his food, that Tom spoke to Fulver.

"Mr. Fulver, are you alright? Is the food not to your liking? I can see if there's anything further down the table you would like to eat."

Jean was surprised by the young boy's concern. He was use to small meals, and had soon found himself well satisfied with only one plateful of food. And he had had a hard time even concentrating on his food, with the mystery of the boy named Tom Riddle nagged at the back of his mind.

"I'm fine Tom. Thank you for asking. I'm a light eater, but I do have a question for you," Jean said.

Sergei looked at Jean, his face turning paler by the second. If there was one thing that Krum seemed to be good at, it was reading between the lines. Sergei knew what Fulver was going to ask. He turned to his plate, and pretended that his pie was the only thing in his world.

"Sure what do want to ask me?" said Tom, ecstatic that Fulver was talking to him.

"I was wondering if you know a lot about Tom Riddle? Do you hang out with him or have any of his classes?"

Tom jr.'s brow furrowed as he thought about Fulver's question, slightly confused by it.

"Like I said, Tom Riddle is a Slytherin, and doesn't talk to me much. He isn't mean to me, more like he doesn't pay attention to me. Everybody loves him. He's a model student and all, and I expect that's why he doesn't talk to me, being so busy. I only have one class with him. It's the Defense against the Dark Arts class with Professor Frederick. Why do you ask?"

Jean leaned back, startled to hear that Riddle was a good student, loved by all. He was sure he was going to hear terrible stories about the boy. He also had been surprised to learn that Professor Frederick taught Riddle. Fulver wasn't sure why he should be surprised by that fact, but he was none the less.

"It's nothing Tom. I was just curious, but can I ask one thing of you?" Fulver said.

Tom nodded, his excitement rising at the prospect of doing something Fulver could be proud of him for. Even Sergei had lifted his head to hear the request.

"I think it best if you stayed away from Tom Riddle as much as possible."

Tom Jr. looked at Fulver quizzically, but nodded and smiled brightly at Fulver. Jean was glad Tom Jr. hadn't asked any questions, happy that the child believed him. He hoped that Tom Jr. would never lose that innocence, but knew all good things had to end. Tom started up his conversation about Quidditch with Sergei again as if Fulver had never made an odd request. Even Jean had become more entertained by the conversation, asking here and there about the sport. Slowly he pieced together the rules of Quidditch, and was soon very excited to see the game.

Jean had looked one last time over at the Slytherin table before they left the Great Hall. He had been surprised to see Tom Riddle staring back at him, a strange look of anger, puzzlement and interest in his eyes. Fulver glared at Riddle, then turned and walked away.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12: JEAN FULVER'S FIRST QUIDDITCH MATCH

Golden veils of sunlight fell around Jean, Sergei and Tom as they waved goodbye to the Caretaker, Mr. Borden. After the Caretaker had given Tom Jr. a large leather bag, he returned the farewell, a foolish smile smeared all over his face. Fulver gave a quick nod to Borden, quite glad that they were parting ways with the Caretaker. Fulver, Sergei and Tom had spent most of the morning in the doltish man's company, and Jean had never been so happy as to leaving it. Although he had forced himself to be polite as did the others, Mr. Borden had gotten on his last nerves.

Mr. Borden was a plump man, with an easy going manner. He was responsible for all that happened in or around the castle, often cleaning up messes, or apprehending pranksters. Most teachers were kind to him, knowing that he was hardworking, but not the smartest man around. He was considered to be a harmless halfwit, foolish, but nothing to be worried about.

Borden liked most people, but was loyal to a select few. Those few were the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore and Professor Frederick. Dumbledore and the Headmaster he respected, but Frederick he adored. In his eyes Professor Frederick could do no wrong.

This jovial and not too bright Caretaker had accompanied Jean, Sergei and Tom about the grounds, telling stories of various statues and paintings they passed, filling in where Tom couldn't. He was honored to have been chosen by Dumbledore to show special guests around the castle. He took pride in all the knowledge he had accumulated, ecstatic that he finally had someone to tell it all too.

Tom, use to the Caretaker's ways, had found a way to tune him. Fulver wanted nothing better than pull his own eyes out, the constant barrage of useless information slowly driving him mad, but Sergei was perhaps the most diplomatic of the trio. He listened to Mr. Borden with the utmost politeness, sometimes asking questions, or answering any of Borden's inquiries.

If Jean was fascinated by Hogwarts, then Sergei could be said to be in love and heartbroken at the same time. Here was a place that he had always wanted to be a part of, and a place that he would never fit into. He longed more than ever before that he could do magic, the old ache of disappointment that he had felt since he was a child throbbing once again.

Soon though, as the afternoon slowly settled into evening, it was time for the trio to part ways with Mr. Borden, and head down to the Quidditch field.

The walk down the hill towards the field was a mixture of fun and danger. With the ground still muddy from yesterday's downpour, it became a contest of wills to see who could stay on their feet longer. Sergei and Jean took the contest seriously, and Tom was just glad to have to someone to watch the game with. Fulver felt the excitement and anticipation for the match grow with every step that brought him closer to the stadium. And he wasn't the only one. All around Tom, Sergei and Jean, children and teachers cascaded down the hillside, the roar of their voices rolling down after them. Opaline light shone out of every face, as a hot breeze of excitement swiftly ran its fingers through the crowd.

As they neared the Quidditch stadium, Fulver became intrigued by how it was set up. Surrounding the oval field, towers rose up to the sky, indenting into its perfect blue surface. Each house proudly displayed its colors on a tower. Seats were in the upper part of the huge edifices, which was not something that Fulver was use to seeing. Tom led Fulver and Sergei to a staircase that led up into the yellow and black Hufflepuff tower. Up and up they went, winding their way to the top, following the flowing black robes of students. Everything charmed Fulver from the wooden struts to the well worn railings, but nothing compared to the view they had once they reached the top, and looked out over the field.

The Hufflepuff tower was right in the center, commanding an impressive view of the stadium. On both sides of the field, three huge hoops on fifty foot stems pierced the sunny sky. From what Tom told Fulver, that was were teams scored using a round, red ball called the quaffle. All around them, the stands on either side and opposite of them were packing themselves, seas of black robes rippling as students filed into their seats. Banners and flags supporting one or the other team waved fanatically in the air. The mid afternoon breeze cooled everyone from the rays of the warm summer sun. In all, it was a perfect day for a game.

Fulver, Jean and Tom settled themselves in the second row, surrounded by animated children of all ages. Tom pulled out three pairs of binoculars from the bag Borden had given him, and handed them to Jean and Sergei. Both men took their binoculars with relish, electrified by the excitement around them.

Opposite the Hufflepuff tower, Fulver watched as one of the teams marched onto the field. They were dressed completely in red and gold, waving enthusiastically at the crowd, who erupted in applause and screams of joy. A quarter of the crowd booed. Most of that came from the tower just to the right of them. When Fulver looked, he noticed the recognizable silver and green colors.

The Griffindor team were of average build, not too small, but not giants and half the team were girls. Jean watched through his binoculars as they waved back to the crowd, electrifying their fans. An up swell of applause roared through the stadium, causing ripples of energy around Fulver. Jean could tell that, despite their smaller builds, they were confident. They were, after all, from the house of the brave.

Next Slytherin came out. The happiness that had once filled the air for Griffindor turned to a sour dislike. Boos echoed throughout the stadium, punctuated by strangled, fierce cries of applause. The people in the Slytherin tower were wild, seeing as they were the only ones who were really rooting for Slytherin. When Fulver looked through the binoculars at the Slytherin team, he noticed that they looked more like giant thugs than anything else, without an inch of a smile on their lips. They glared over at the Griffindor team, and Fulver knew this match was going to be brutal.

As the teams waited on the field for the game to begin, Fulver was surprised by a jab of an elbow into his side. Jerking the binoculars from his face, he whipped his head around to see who the offender was, and noticed that Sergei Krum was pointing at an approaching figure. Johnny Wolfbane waded through the crowded row, slowly making his way to Sergei, Jean and Tom. He looked different, less wild without his bloodstained leather vest. He was dressed in a simple black robe, his long black hair neatly pulled back. He looked like any of the other people here, except that he was extremely tall, and seemed to be made completely out of muscle. A wide smile spread over his face as he made his way down the row towards them. Fulver had never seen the man smile, and was sure that Wolfbane rarely did because the grin on his face was frightening.

Tom Jr.'s eyes widened in awe as Wolfbane approached, seeming to have found another person to worship besides Fulver. Jean smiled inwardly at the boy's innocence. Sergei Krum, on the other hand, didn't seem to be too comfortable around Wolfbane, his obvious fear all over his face. Wolfbane sat next to Jean, causing a tidal wave of terror amongst the Hufflepuff kids. The ones nearest to Johnny scooted away, trying to avoid making any eye contact with him. They could sense that he was dangerous, could feel his animalistic energy radiating from him.

"We haven't seen you for awhile Wolfbane. What have you been up to my furry friend?" Fulver said, a slight mischievous grin marking his face.

Sergei nearly keeled over when Fulver finished his question, his mouth slack in astonishment, waiting for a reaction from Wolfbane. Johnny turned his odd violet colored eyes on Fulver, who unflinchingly stared back, and analyzed Jean for a moment. Fulver really didn't know how Wolfbane would react to his statement. A part of him wanted to scramble as far away from Johnny as possible, but the rebel in him wanted to see how this obviously bigger opponent would react. If it came to a confrontation, though Fulver would probably lose to Wolfbane, he would stand his ground none the less.

"I've been helping Dumbledore with something. He may have come up with a solution for us," Wolfbane stated in a smooth, unruffled voice.

He quickly scanned the crowd around them, looking to see if anybody was listening. Nobody paid attention to the three men and boy. The game had started, and every pair of eyes except the men's were on the field. Fulver was disappointed that he hadn't seen the start of his first Quidditch game, but he was glad that some good news had come from Wolfbane.

"That's great!" said a now inquisitive Krum.

All fear that Sergei had, was pushed aside for the tiniest fragment of hope. _Krum really must be desperate to rid himself of the plans_, thought Fulver, but then Jean couldn't really blame Krum for being so.

"Does Dumbledore need any help? Not that I would be of much help, especially since the plans are…"

Sergei stopped talking when he saw the obvious warning that turned Wolfbane's face to stone. Johnny's eyes flickered to the crowd around them, who were caught up in the game, but one could never be too careful. Krum blushed and looked back at the field, trying hard not to notice the anger and irritation spreading in Wolfbane's face

_Idiot!_ That was all that Fulver could think of about Krum, once again finding his annoyance for the man overcoming his momentary lapse into empathy. Jean knew how a spy worked, how they blended into the crowd, and pretended to be paying attention to the event in front of them, but were really closely watching their prey. And what's worse, but now Tom was curious as to what Sergei was referring to. He looked at Jean and Sergei, almost waiting for them to explain. If a child could catch on, it would be in no time at all before Grindelwald found Sergei.

Jean turned back to the game, holding his binoculars close to his face. He saw Wolfbane do the same, though did notice that Johnny shook his head in disapproval. Tom still waited for an explanation, but soon realized that nobody was in the mood to talk, much less give him an answer.

The three men and the boy sat awkwardly stiff as they pretended to watch the match. Fulver found that the fierce game played on broomsticks would have been entertaining if he could just turn his brain off. He felt Johnny on one side of him and Sergei on the other. He saw Krum's constant glances over at Wolfbane, half eager to know more, but mostly terrified to ask. Fulver noticed how thin Wolfbane's lips became as the match continued, a line of tension, annoyance and anger. Tom jr. was the only one who watched the game with any pleasure, glancing over at Jean every few moments, looking for the Muggle's approval of the match. Jean gave him a wane smile, which seemed to appease the boy.

Soon though the tension in between the men ebbed, and Fulver could watch the game with some measure of enjoyment. Jean's binoculars rarely left his face, jerking left and right, up and down as he followed the progression of the players. He even caught himself cheering every time Griffindor scored, stopped Slytherin from scoring, or in general worked the other team over.

Griffindor had style and grace in the air, using a bold strategical plan. Though their plan was not always made up with the smartest moves, it definitely had the strongest plays. Slytherin on the other hand, had a little bit more cunning, dealing out low blows, obvious fouls and in general, never played by the rules. There was more than one time where a Griffindor player came close to being severely injured, and the Griffindor seeker was always a prey of bludgers.

Fulver had become so caught up in the game, that he had completely forgotten about the tension between his companions. When he looked over, he noticed that the spell of anxiety had broken. Sergei was enthusiastically talking with Tom over Quidditch strategy, and Wolfbane would sometimes join into the conversation. Fulver didn't know too much about Quidditch strategical tactics yet, seeing as this was the first time he had ever seen such a game. He turned his binoculars back to the field, following his favorite players and picking up more and more fragments of the sport.

Fulver oftentimes found himself looking over at the Slytherin tower, especially after Griffindor scored. The disappointment and anger in the Slytherin's faces was oddly satisfying for the Frenchman, but one face unnerved him. Tom Riddle never seemed to be too moved by the game. He didn't cheer with the other Slytherins, or boo with them. The kids in the Slytherin tower seemed like happy bright children compared to Riddle. No, Riddle watched the game with a cold intensity as if he were dissecting it apart. He showed no emotions at all, and that frightened Fulver more than he thought it should. One time Fulver had caught the boy's diamond edged eyes looking at him. Jean shuddered as a horrific grin edged over the boy's face. Fulver had never seen such a demonic face on a child before. He didn't turn away, determined not to allow Riddle to intimidate him, but soon, for one reason or another, Riddle shifted his eyes from Fulver on his own volition.

Jean turned back to the game as well, but found he could no longer concentrate on its moving parts. His thoughts were trapped in the maze of questions that raced through his mind as he wondered again about the boy named Riddle. He tried to follow his favorite players, but always ended up scanning the crowd, heading in the direction of the Slytherin tower.

His mind was so preoccupied by Riddle, that Fulver had not been prepared for the person he thought he had seen sitting amongst the crowd in the tower opposite of them. He had been following the Griffindor Seeker, determined not to look at the Slytherin tower, when his eyes had caught sight of what he had thought to be a ghost. His binoculars raced back to the spot where he had seen the apparition, looking for the familiar brown curls and catlike green eyes. His head darted back and forth, sifting through the crowd. Just when he thought his imagination had fooled him, he caught the glint of green eyes out of his binoculars. There was a man who sat in the back row of the tower opposite the field from Fulver that Jean could swear he knew.

Fulver had only been able to catch glimpses of the man's profile, but Fulver was sure he would have recognized Marius' face and eyes anywhere.

His binoculars remained on the man, his rational mind reminding him that he had seen Marius die, and that this was just someone who looked like his friend, but another part of him wondered, in horror, if maybe Marius had lived and Jean had left him. Maybe this man was his friend. Maybe he too had been following Sergei all this time. But if so, why hadn't he made contact with Jean?

Questions and doubts whirled through his mind, and he knew the only way he would know the truth was if the man turned his head. He had to see the stranger straight on. Catching glimpses of a profile through the crowd was not enough proof. Jean's hands tightened on the binoculars, pain shooting through his tense fingers. His eyes hurt from how hard he held the binoculars to his face. Tom Riddle, the game, everything seemed to have disappeared in Fulver's mind. All his thoughts were centered on this mysterious man in the back row of the tower opposite of them.

He hadn't even realized the game had ended until Sergei had jabbed Jean in the ribs. The blow had so startled him that his binoculars had slipped from his hands. Jean glared at the overexcited Krum who was jumping up and down like a little boy. Fulver scramble to get the binoculars in his hand, and jerked it back in the direction he had had them.

He couldn't find the man Jean had thought had been Marius again. The crowd in the opposite tower were on their feet, and moving toward the tower exit. Frustrated, he turned toward Sergei wanting to strike the man. Sergei was happy because Griffindor had won, and Fulver found that he couldn't be mad at Krum. Jean had never seen Krum as he saw him now. Light shone out of Sergei's face, his eyes beaming with joy as he celebrated with Tom.

Fulver wasn't really angry at Krum, just frustrated with all these unanswered questions he had. The more and more he thought about the man in the crowd, the more and more Jean found how ridiculous his reaction had been. Marius was dead, and maybe a part of Jean had hoped that his friend had somehow lived, but his friend would only be a memory, and the sooner that Jean got used to that idea the better.

Tom, Johnny and Sergei had waited until most of the Hufflepuff tower had cleared out before they got up. When everyone else had gone the three men and the boy got up, and walked down and out of the tower, their words ricocheting off each other as they talked of the game. Jean would add a comment here and there, but his mind couldn't let go of the man in the back row.

The farther away they got from the stadium, the more Jean slowly pushed the thought of the man from his mind. Finally they reached the castle, much later than any of the other people. Tom led Sergei, Johnny and Jean to the teacher's corridor telling them that dinner would be served in an hour, and then left. Johnny waited until no one was around, and then turned towards his companions.

"Dumbledore would like to see you," Johnny pointed at Krum, "and YOU," Wolfbane said the last word with menace as he pointed at Fulver, "in his office tomorrow after breakfast. We'll meet outside the Great Hall after breakfast, and I'll escort the both of you there."

"Why does he want to see us _now_?" Jean asked bluntly, Sergei closely listening for the answer.

Wolfbane glared at Jean, annoyed by the man's questioning, rebellious nature.

"Outside the Great Hall after breakfast!" Johnny snapped, and then strode away.

"That's not an answer!" Fulver yelled at the retreating American.

When Johnny didn't turn around, Jean shrugged and headed towards his room. Sergei kept in stride with the Frenchman, rambling on about the game, the castle, everything. Jean nodded when appropriate, but couldn't concentrate on Krum's words. He found that he had promised to go with Sergei down to the Great Hall for dinner, and that they would sit with Tom again, but he didn't really know why he had said that.

When they reached Jean's room, Krum waved goodbye and headed on. Fulver gave him a half wave and opened his door. A letter, that had been wedged under the door, shot into the room. The candles inside burst into light as they always did when Jean entered, and Fulver bent down to pick up the letter.

It wasn't anything odd, or seemingly dangerous, just a light, thin envelope, blank on the outside except his name in the center. Jean was curious as to what was inside, but knew that he should probably wait for Dumbledore and the others. It could be some dangerous magic he had never seen before, but the thought of being cowed in by an envelope pricked Jean's pride. He savagely ripped the top of the envelope off, waiting apprehensively for something to happen. Nothing did, and he realized how foolish his action had been. What if something had happened, but it hadn't only taken him out, but Sergei right next door, and 1000 feet around Sergei? He had to be more careful next time, but the threat wasn't over yet. He still didn't know what was inside his curious find.

Fulver extracted a single sheet of plain white paper. Holding it up at its corners, Jean noticed that the letter only contained two sentences. They were written in an untidy, but recognizable scrawl.

It said:

_Money is a materialistic, human idea. We should strive for more worthier items._

Jean felt as if the words had knocked the air from his lungs. He found it hard to breath as his eyes stared at the letter. A thousand thoughts swirled like a tornado through his mind. He could hardly believe what it was he was seeing.

Jean would have recognized Marius' words and penmanship anywhere.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13: MEETING DUMBLEDORE

The next morning, Jean Fulver awoke to a pounding on his door. At first he wasn't sure if it was the door that was being pounded on or his head. Sleep bleared his eyes, and he rubbed them as light poured into his room. The knock at the door became more insistent, and Fulver found himself yelling something unintelligible at the intruding noise. When the person on the other side didn't take the hint, Fulver lumbered up out of his bed, and staggered to the door, somewhat aware that he had slept in his clothes.

He rubbed his tired face, feeling a shadow of grizzle under his hands. Old sweat salted his skin, and he became acutely aware of how much he needed a bath. As he passed his writing desk to get to the door, Fulver noticed the small envelope with the letter sticking out of it. He stopped dead in the middle of the room, and for a moment, Fulver became completely immune to the knock at his door.

He had been certain that the envelope and its letter were a fabrication of his dream world.

But there the letter sat, very much a part of this reality. It waited for him, a secret menace dancing around his consciousness. Fulver had not had time to inquire as to who had sent him the letter. He had planned on finding out today. Jean had forgotten that he had already promised to go to the Great Hall with Krum. At that moment, the knock at the door broke through Fulver's whirling thoughts. Jean quickly snatched up the envelope and its letter from the table. He strode over to the source of the knocking, tucking the parcel inside his jacket, as he opened his bedroom door.

A slightly irritated Sergei Krum stood on the other side of his door, dressed immaculately in sky blue robes. He peered in at the unsteady Fulver, who was massaging his head. Krum wrinkled his nose in disgust at the Frenchman.

"UGH, Fulver! Haven't you ever heard of a bath? You can't go down to the Great Hall smelling like that. People will lose their appetites!" Sergei condescendingly stated.

Fulver felt his old irritation rise up as he looked out on Krum's smug face.

"Okay _Princess_! Let me wash up so that I don't affront your delicate nose!" Fulver snapped as he slammed the door in Krum's face.

"Rude… inconsiderate…" Sergei yelled, his muffled cries barely making it through the oak door.

There was more said, Jean was sure, but he didn't hear the rest of it. He had turned around, and found that a large wash bowl and cloth had magically appeared in his room, sitting on his desk. Jean knew when to take a hint, and quickly stripped off his jacket and shirt.

Sergei Krum had begun to knock again, his anger slowly petering away.

"Don't think I'll wait for you Fulver!" Krum yelled. "You can find your own way to the Great Hall. See if I eat with _you_!"

Jean had begun to quickly scrub his armpits and chest, the cloth running over his smooth marble skin in circles. He smirked at Sergei's comment, knowing full well that the man had no intention of going anywhere alone. He could make him wait, but Fulver could feel hunger gnawing at his insides, and he wanted to get to the Great Hall as well.

Jean Fulver, done in a matter of minutes, quickly combed through his haphazard white hair (the comb being another item that had magically appeared on his desk), and slung his shirt and jacket on him. He made sure that the letter was tucked in tight in his jacket, and his gun was secure at his hip.

Just as he had expected, Sergei Krum waited outside his room, arms folded across his chest, and a scowl creased into his face.

"I'm starving. Let's go Princess!" Fulver said, and marched down the corridor, trailed by a fuming Krum, who had a bunch of invectives on the tip of his tongue, but little ability of getting them out properly.

The trip to the Great Hall was shorter than last time, since both men knew their way to the dining area. Fulver and Krum ate at the staff table this time, next to Dumbledore and Wolfbane. Tom Jr., who had been disappointed that his new friends couldn't have sat at the Hufflepuff table, understood that it would have been extremely awkward for them to be crammed in next to a bunch of teenagers. Most students noticed the new additions to the staff table, and looked on them with harmless curiosity. Everyone assumed that Sergei and Jean were special guests.

Only a few people seemed to be really against the inclusion of the strangers to the staff table. The most vehement of the dissenters was Professor Vikious, who had openly brought his argument against the strangers eating with the staff to the Headmaster, but was denied his wish. Vikious ate silently and alone, often shooting the newcomers venomous looks, most of them directed at Jean Fulver. Fulver answered every dirty look with a arrogant grin, which enraged the Potions Master even more.

Jean Fulver had expected Professor Frederick to act the same towards him, but Fulver found himself surprised by the man's apparent change of heart. Although Professor Frederick wasn't as candid with Fulver as he was with others, he, at least, would speak to the Frenchman. Frederick, who sat to the right of Jean, had even taken an interest in the tiniest of things about Fulver, like where he grew up, and what exactly it was a Muggle soldier did. Fulver couldn't tell Frederick much about the espionage business, seeing as it was a secretive profession. He managed to escape without an answer by shoving a large amount of treacle tart into his mouth. Frederick took the hint, and asked no more.

Fulver was glad that he had shoveled the tart into his mouth, even if it was a way to avoid a question. The food was excellent, and had removed all of Fulver's worries as he enjoyed his meal. Krum also seemed to have brightened up, his easy going manner returning to him with every bite he ate. Sergei had even begun to talk to Fulver again. Jean was surprised by how food could change so much, but as the meal ended, and people began to drift out of the Great Hall, Fulver slowly felt the weight of their situation grow on his shoulders. He noticed that Dumbledore had become more disheveled, his skin sallow, and robes wrinkled. Dumbledore would cast a glance at Fulver and Sergei, his blue eyes dull with exhaustion.

Soon Fulver, Sergei, Wolfbane and Dumbledore were all that were left in the Great Hall. When everyone had gone, the four men got up awkwardly, and walked to the doorway. Jean walked next to Sergei, whom walked a few paces behind Dumbledore and Wolfbane. Albus and Johnny pretended to be in a heated argument on which Quidditch team they thought would win the Quidditch world cup this year, and they ignored Sergei and Jean, but Fulver knew that he and Krum were to follow the American and the Professor.

Albus and Johnny led the two men out of the Great Hall, and up a swooping stair case, which led them to one of the classroom levels. No classes were in session at the moment, since the end of the year tests had ended, and the students were scheduled to go home by train the next day. As they passed some of the classrooms, Jean Fulver peeked into them.

Most looked like ordinary classrooms with some equally spaced out small desks facing a chalkboard. Some of the classrooms had strange splatters on the floor or odd smells coming out of them. One of them had an assortment of pillows, feathers and other odd things.

Finally they reached Dumbledore's office. Wolfbane glanced behind him, his scorching gaze scanning over everything around them. He gave Dumbledore a tiny nod, and stepped aside, standing as a guard outside the door.

Sergei Krum and Jean Fulver stepped forward, both apprehensive. Sergei followed Dumbledore into the Professor's office, eager to have something done about his situation, but terrified at the same time. Just before Krum went into Dumbledore's office, he turned around, and gave Jean Fulver the most frightened look Fulver had ever seen on Krum's face. Fulver gave Sergei a reassuring smile, and Krum relaxed, all the fear he had in his face dissolving away.

It was odd. Jean Fulver wondered why Sergei had looked to him and not Wolfbane or Dumbledore for comfort. Krum and Fulver weren't the best of friends. Most times Sergei Krum got on Fulver's nerves, but it had been Fulver that Krum had looked to for reassurance, and Jean had given Sergei that encouragement. Whether Fulver wanted to admit it or not, he knew that he and Sergei were similar in that neither one of them knew how to do magic, and both were surrounded by people who did. Maybe that was why Fulver had smiled. It hadn't been much, but it had been enough to give Sergei the courage he needed to step through Dumbledore's door.

Jean started to walk towards Dumbledore's office, but was stopped at the entrance by Wolfbane.

"Dumbledore only wanted to see _Krum_ in his office. You can wait outside with me," Wolfbane said gruffly.

"Then why did I bother coming here to begin with?" Fulver asked, trying hard to hold his temper in check.

Wolfbane's face reddened slightly, and Fulver could see he was irritating the man, but before the American could say anything, Professor Frederick came walking up the hall. Frederick had been deep in thought, ambling along in contemplation. He was completely unaware of Fulver and Wolfbane until he was almost right on top of them. Frederick froze when he saw the two men standing next to Dumbledore's door. Surprise lit up the Professor's face, as if he were not expecting to see anyone near there, but soon the common mask of placid calm fell over his features.

"I've come to see Dumbledore about…" Frederick stopped, his eyes flashing over at Wolfbane, then turning, ever so slightly, towards Fulver.

Once again, Fulver could see anger and dislike in Frederick's features when he looked over at the Frenchman. It wasn't anything big, just minutiae of facial information: the tightening of the jaw, the tiniest narrowing of the eyes, the slightest flare of the nose, but as before, those signs were soon gone, replaced by an unreadable calm.

"Dumbledore will see you tomorrow Frederick," said Wolfbane, who had not moved one inch from the doorway. "He can't see you now, because he's with Mr. Krum at the moment. If you like, you could show Mr. Fulver around the castle."

Fulver knew exactly what Wolfbane was doing. He wanted Frederick to keep an eye on Jean. This meant that Jean was still considered to be a traitor. Fulver felt his stomach churn up sour feelings.

"I've already had a tour thank you!" Fulver snapped.

"Now don't get so angry Fulver. I'm sure there's _someplace_ I can show you that you haven't seen yet." Frederick stated presumptuously. He looked down on Fulver as if he was reprimanding a naughty child.

Fulver hated being treated like a traitor, but abhorred being treated like a child even more. He wasn't going to stand for that. He glared at Frederick, and marched towards Dumbledore's office. He had every right to know what was going on, since he was neck deep into the situation, with no going back. As he neared the door, Wolfbane positioned himself in front of the entrance. The American's arms were tense, his hands clenched like claws at his side, and his eyes were flickering between yellow and violet. Fulver knew what was happening. He had seen first hand what it was Wolfbane could do. Fulver knew better than to anger the American any further. Still, it was frustrating for Fulver to be treated like an enemy.

"Just testing you Wolfbane," Fulver said nonchalantly, as he backed away from the door.

Jean turned toward Frederick, a taunt grin covering his face. Frederick seemed to be surprised by Fulver's reaction. So was Johnny Wolfbane, who had expected more of a fight from the Muggle, but neither one of them could have anticipated Jean's next move.

Fulver walked over to Frederick, and clamped a hand onto Frederick's right shoulder. The Professor's body tensed up. If he were a cat, the hairs on his back would have been standing straight up. But he wasn't a cat, and he didn't pull away from the seemingly friendly gesture.

"Since you're so eager to show me around, why don't you show me to the person who delivers the mail around here!" Jean said, friendly words frosted with underlying anger.

Frederick tried to wiggle out of Fulver's tight grasp, but Fulver dug his fingers into Frederick's shoulder, not caring if he hurt the man. Frederick grimaced in pain, but showed none of it in his voice. Jean Fulver was impressed. Wolfbane stood firmly at the door, watching the interaction with some mild interest.

"Mail? I'm not sure what you mean!" Frederick responded.

Fulver dug his fingers into Frederick's shoulder more.

"You know letters, correspondence, important memos. Surely the Wizarding world have those type of things as well. Who delivers it around the castle?" Fulver said, his lilting voice more frightening to hear than if it were stern. If he couldn't follow Sergei, then he was going to follow the letter he had received.

Frederick jerked in pain, trying to get away, but finding his wand arm was writhing in agony. He wasn't getting anywhere near his wand too soon. Frederick looked to Wolfbane for help, but knew that the American was watching him as well as Fulver. Wolfbane trusted neither of the two men, and seemed to be entertained by this small battle of wills, but he was also curious as to why Fulver was doing this.

"Yes, we get letters, but they usually come by Owl. We don't have anyone who delivers letters and correspondence throughout the castle. Why are you asking?" Frederick asked, a sliver of anger slicing through his words.

"Not even a message between teachers. Come on. There must be somebody who delivers messages that owls can't, somebody who knows all that goes on around here. A servant that perhaps you have forgotten about," Fulver said.

"There is only one person who fits that description close enough," Frederick said as he wretched his arm out of Fulver's grasp. He massaged his shoulder as he glared at the Frenchman.

"Who is it?" Fulver responded, a seriousness trickling into his words.

"Mr. Borden the Caretaker!"

Jean Fulver examined Frederick for a moment, and then marched down the hallway that they had come from. Frederick watched the Muggle go, ruffled and angry that the Muggle had had so much control over him earlier. Jean Fulver stopped a few paces down the hall, and turned around.

"Well are you coming Professor Frederick. I thought you were going to show me _someplace_ I haven't seen yet. I want to go to Mr. Borden the Caretaker's residence, so lead the way."

Frederick looked puzzled, and slowly walked over to Fulver. He hadn't expected this request, but he was never really sure how the Muggle's moods would swing. Frederick glanced over at Johnny Wolfbane, who nodded his approval. The Professor sighed, and noted that he was going to have to remind the American how much Wolfbane owed him for this. Frederick hated being a babysitter, especially for a Muggle like Jean Fulver.

"Okay follow me!" Frederick answered wearily. Frederick led the way down the hall, followed closely by Fulver.

They soon came to a corner and rounded it, leaving Wolfbane behind as they journeyed deeper into the castle. Frederick led Fulver to the staircase that they had just come up, and started his way down. Fulver followed.

What neither of the two men saw as they went down the stairs, was the man who silently crept out of the utility room just off the stairwell. Professor Vikious looked around him, and then secretly stole down the stairs after Frederick and Jean Fulver.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14: THE HARMLESS HALFWIT WIZARD

Homer Borden lounged luxuriously behind his desk, a bowl of strawberries balanced neatly on his slightly rounded stomach. He plucked up one of the succulent fruits, and slowly took a bite out of it. The sweet, warm juice squirted into his mouth, and he knew he couldn't be having a better day. By tomorrow all the students would be leaving to go home for the summer, and soon Mr. Borden would find some real peace. Due to the excellent weather, most students had not stayed indoors, and thus were not making disastrous messes for Borden to clean up. This suited him quite nicely, since he planned on spending the rest of the day relaxing and eating his strawberries. Mr. Borden had only the smallest of pleasures to make him happy.

The drowsy warm summer sun filtered down into his small cramped office, and the flower scented breeze numbed his mind. His lids began to grow heavy, and his large head lolled on his porky shoulders. Mr. Borden was on his way into a nice nap, when a loud pounding at his door jousted out of his easy frame of mind.

At first, he thought it no more than Peeves the Poltergeist creating mayhem as usual, which he promptly was going to ignore today. All the same Mr. Borden waited for the noise to repeat itself, before he let his eye lids sag in drowsiness. That was when the noise or pounding broke through to the caretaker, and Mr. Borden soon realized that someone was knocking at his door. The knock was anxious and slightly irritated. The Caretaker wasn't quite sure he wanted to know who was on the other side of his door, but then a voice spoke with the next knock.

"Mr. Borden, it's me, Professor Frederick. I have someone here who would like to see you!"

Borden quickly put his bowl of strawberries down, and leapt up from his chair. He would have known that voice anywhere, without having to be told a name. He scanned over his office quickly, making sure it was presentable enough for a Professor, and walked over to his door. Borden swung the door open, a huge smile on his face ready to welcome Frederick, but Frederick wasn't the first person the Caretaker saw. Borden recognized the French Muggle right away from his strange white hair, and harsh blue eyes. He couldn't quite remember the French soldier's name. _James, Javier, Jesse_. All the French names and a few that were not ran through his mind, but nothing seemed to hold. As he tried to remember the Muggle's name, he watched, in horror, as the French soldier shouldered Professor Frederick out of the way of the door, and strode into the room.

"Thanks Professor. I have it from here," the Muggle stated, as he shut the door in Frederick's face.

Borden was stunned by the rude behavior, and angry that Professor Frederick should be treated with anything less than respect. A growl of anger and discontentment could be heard on the other side of the door, but Frederick didn't press the matter. Soon Borden heard the Professor's recognizable stride move away from his office. Borden hadn't realized he had been focusing so acutely on the door until he turned around, and faced the stare of cold blue eyes.

Professor Frederick had gone, leaving the Caretaker in the room with a dangerous Muggle. Mr. Borden took a step back, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest. He suddenly remembered the Muggle's name. Jean Fulver stared at the Caretaker with such intensity that Borden wanted to be anywhere, but in a tiny room with this French soldier. This surprised the Caretaker. He was a wizard after all, but Borden had a suspicion that if he ever got into a conflict with this Jean Fulver, he would not walk away unscathed.

Jean Fulver, on the other hand, watched the Caretaker carefully, analyzing the man. The Muggle wasn't sure how much of a threat Borden was. By the way the Caretaker crept away from the Muggle, Fulver figured none at all. The silence was ominous in the room. Borden started to fidget, unnerved by Fulver's cool demeanor. This seemed to go on for a lifetime, but the tense silence only lasted a few minutes.

The tension broke when Jean Fulver smiled. He wasn't use to having to smile, so he was sure it was more frightening, then inviting. He did his best to seem happy to see the Caretaker again, though he was far from it. Mr. Borden was stunned by the smile, but did relax a bit. The change in atmosphere lightened, and, though it didn't dispel all of Borden's anger, it did make the Caretaker curious as to why Fulver was there.

"Hello Mr. Borden. I hope you remember me," Jean Fulver started.

Borden nodded his head, the words he wanted to say lodged in the back of his throat. Jean Fulver waited for a reply, but when he saw that none was to come, he continued on.

"I hear that you're the person who knows everything that happens around here. I heard from Professor Frederick that you were a very important asset to this school!" Fulver said smoothly.

He watched as a light of pride began to trickle into the Caretaker's face. Mr. Borden relaxed even more. Any anger or reticence he may have had earlier was gone. Professor Frederick had said no such thing. Jean Fulver hated lying to Borden, but if a lie got him the information he needed, then he would lie.

"I'm flattered that Professor Frederick thinks so. I take care of all the practical issues that the staff and Headmaster are too busy to handle themselves. I supervise the house elves in their cleaning, clean up any messes the students make during the day, punish any rule breakers, deliver any mail that an owl can't…" Mr. Borden's speech petered away as Jean Fulver raised his hand to stop him. A flash of fear seeped into the Caretaker's face again. He couldn't help, but notice that the French soldier looked at him like an Eagle would watch a mouse. The look on Jean Fulver's face did not, on the other hand, match the jovial voice that came from his mouth.

"Yes I hear that you handle all practical matters very well, especially when it comes to the mail. I have a request from Dumbledore," Jean stated. "Recently I received a letter that was delivered to my room. The author may be of some importance to Dumbledore…"

"Do you mean it's important to the secret work that Dumbledore is working on with Sergei Krum?" Mr. Borden blurted out.

Jean Fulver was stunned to hear this from the Caretaker. He wondered how Mr. Borden knew about this secret work. Fulver was quite sure that Dumbledore would not be happy to hear that this half-wit knew that he was working on something top secret with Sergei Krum. Borden must have guessed that he had said too much, because the man's face was pale with dread.

Fulver glared at Borden, and the Caretaker moved farther away from the French soldier. Fulver didn't want to deny or confirm anything about Sergei Krum, so he remained silent. Jean didn't know why he was protecting Krum, but the idea that Borden knew such crucial information sat uneasily in Fulver's stomach. It would not be good if this brainless oaf let the information slip that Krum was at Hogwarts, and that Dumbledore was helping him. Fulver was still trying to figure out how Mr. Borden knew.

"I swear that no one knows about Krum's situation, but Frederick. I, of course, knew that someone important was coming to Hogwarts because I was the one Frederick asked to get the horses and carriage ready for Dumbledore and the American. I won't tell a soul about Kr… about the newcomer!"

Jean Fulver wasn't fully convinced by this. He made a mental note to tell Dumbledore of this new development, but he wasn't here to put Borden on the spot for information the Caretaker shouldn't know. He was here for a mysterious letter sent to his room by someone who should be dead.

"Mr. Borden the letter," Fulver calmly prodded.

The Caretaker seemed to snap out of his fear, and back to the situation in front of him.

"Ah yes the letter!" He replied.

Jean Fulver waited for more of an answer, but when he saw that he wasn't going to get anything, he decided to prod some more.

"Do you know which letter I'm talking about?" Jean Fulver asked.

"Yes the letter that was sent to your room yesterday!"

"Okay. Who sent the letter? Who delivered it? Do you remember?" Fulver could hear his anxiousness seeping into his words. He decided it best not show that much anxiety or interest over the matter again.

"Well, I don't know who sent the letter. It came by owl to the main entrance. I thought the owl was lost, so I took the letter, and sent the confused creature on its way. I put the letter in my office because I had to go deal with Peeves…" Borden stopped and looked over at Fulver anxiously. Jean could tell that none of this was normal. He had remembered from the tour that mail usually came by owl, but that the owls usually went to the owlery or the Great Hall, never to the front door.

"When I came back, the letter was gone. I decided to go to your room, and see if you had gotten it, but when I got there…" Borden paused again, though this time he was puzzled.

"When you got there what?" Jean said, harsher than he intended. Fulver could feel his blood racing through his veins. He was so close to an answer in this mystery. Borden could tell how important his answer would be, even if he didn't know the full details.

"Well I didn't see the letter, but I did see someone at your door. I thought it odd that a student should be in the staff corridor. I figured the boy needed some help or something. I said 'Riddle, what are you doing here?' Tom looked at me, then looked back at your door and said, 'Nothing. I just wanted to see if anyone was here.' I said you weren't and shooed him away from your door," Borden answered.

"Tom Riddle was at my door? Is it normal that students come to the staff corridor?" Jean Fulver asked. It unnerved him that that particular person had been to his room. He couldn't quite understand why a fourteen year old boy's actions would bother him so much.

"Sometimes students who need help go to the Teacher's corridor for guidance. Headmaster Dippet plans on sealing off the entrance to the staff corridor from students. Too many students are bothering teacher's in their leisure time about grades, but Tom has never been down that corridor. I didn't even know he knew where it was. I must say that that boy is odd, brilliant, but a little odd."

Jean Fulver wouldn't argue with that. He could tell that he had gotten all the information he was going to get from Borden. Disappointed that he hadn't solved the mystery, and disturbed that Tom Riddle had been to his room, Fulver had a lot to grapple with on in his mind.

He didn't bother telling the Caretaker to be silent about the letter information. Borden would let the secret slip sooner or later. Besides, Jean Fulver planned on telling Dumbledore about the letter himself. Maybe Dumbledore would have some sort of answer. Maybe he wouldn't. What mattered though was that the letter's author was impersonating Marius. How much did he or she know? Something at the back of Fulver's mind nagged at him. He could have sworn that the handwriting on the letter was Marius' handwriting.

"Thank you for the information," Jean said. Fulver turned around, and strode out of Borden's office. As the door was shutting, he saw that the Caretaker had already seated himself behind his desk, and propped up his feet. A bowl of strawberries was placed precariously on top of his rounded stomach, and threatened to fall off each time Borden dipped his plump hand inside the bowl.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15: SERGEI KRUM'S HEART

Sergei Krum's body ached everywhere. The pain from the blueprints inside him had lessened and increased in different ways. The weight of this horrible secret he carried had diminished with his meeting with Dumbledore, but the Professor hadn't been able to find a way of detaching the plans from Sergei without killing him. He did, on the other hand, find a way in making the blueprints useless to anyone who tried to read them, even Sergei.

Krum guessed that was good enough, but the experimental spells that Dumbledore had used on him had brought excruciating pain. This new plan of Dumbledore's was not fully complete, and Krum was going to have to endure a few more sessions of Dumbledore tinkering with the Krum family spell. All Sergei could think of, as the pain had rolled through him, was saving his wife and son from a horrible fate. He hated the idea of carrying the deplorable blueprints inside him for the rest of his life, but he would do it if it meant that he could keep it out of the hands of Grindelwald. And at least they now had a way to thwart the Dark Lord, even if it wasn't the way Sergei Krum had expected.

Sergei walked out of the castle, aware that he was shadowed by Wolfbane. He knew that the American would never be too far from him, and may not have been far from him since they had arrived. Krum felt a gnawing pain in his legs as he limped out into the sunlight. He needed to walk, needed to feel the sun and the soft summer wind. He needed to see the rolling green hills around him, and to hear the tinkling laughter of innocent children as they enjoyed the fine weather. He wasn't sure how long such beauty would last in these dark times, and it agonized him to think that he may be bringing danger to these children.

Sergei watched a young boy and girl skip down to the hill towards the golden flecked lake, and Krum found himself compelled to follow. The pain lessened the more he walked, or maybe it was the joy of life around Sergei that so invigorated him. Dumbledore's experiments, the constant fear that clawed up his insides, the aching memories of his wife and child, and of course, those loathsome blueprints had begun to take a toll on him. Sergei barely recognized the hollow eyed skeleton that looked back at him every time he looked into a mirror. He had wanted to get out, to breath and see that somewhere in the world real beauty still existed.

Krum found himself next to the lake. Spotting a large willow near its edge, Sergei limped over the tree, and sat in its cool shade. The lake seemed to be the hot spot for the students of Hogwarts. Everywhere, children were running, laughing and chattering away. They splashed in the water, or played blind man's bluff, or just sat and talked. Sergei, being an adult and a stranger, sat alone under the willow, and watched them. He wasn't affronted by the solitude. On the contrary, he liked being able to watch the children as they enjoyed the last moments of the school year. Soon all these kids would be home, and this place would lose a little bit of its life. He saw a small boy near him frolicking joyously as shimmers of butterflies followed him. A little farther from Sergei he listened to a group of girls as their laughter melded into the summer air.

Sadness and loneliness lingered in him though, reminding him of the good life he had led before he had learned of the blueprints. It may not have been a life filled with magic, as he had always yearned for before, but it had been a good, peaceful life. He had found love wider than the universe, and his heart throbbed in pain every time he thought of his family. It was a wound that he had carried with him from Russia, worse than anything that had happened to him since he had arrived in England. This was a ripping of his insides, or, at times, a hollowing feeling of despair. Sometimes the ache became too much, and he would curl up with the memory of his family happy and safe as the only salve. He would repeat to himself over and over again that he wouldn't fail, couldn't fail. He would kill himself first before Grindelwald would get those plans, but the idea of his death caused him fear, though never for himself.

He was worried about his wife and son, wondering if they would understand. Would they know that he had loved them, and he had died for them? Or would he die alone and forgotten as so many have in this war?

Sergei Krum tried to distract himself from the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him. He had many ways of keeping his mind sane. Interacting with people, even ones he disliked, seemed to work the best, and Jean Fulver had been the only one lately, besides Tom Jr., he could talk to. He hated admitting that the infuriating Frenchman had grown on him. It seemed the Muggle was the only one who could really understand how Sergei felt. Neither one of them could do magic, but instead of feeling helpless and impotent, Jean Fulver had felt emboldened. He wasn't afraid of magic as Sergei Krum was, but then, the Frenchman hadn't lived all his life with people who knew how to do some of the darkest and cruelest magic.

Sergei had, but Krum found he was more courageous and alive when he was around Jean Fulver. The Muggle lived his life on the edge of an abyss, walking its fine line with ease. He would look down into the darkness, and see how far the fall from the edge could be, but he would never stop walking along that edge. Sergei Krum wished he could live like that, unafraid of nothing, but himself.

Krum wondered where Fulver was right now, what he was doing. He had felt slightly abandoned when he had come from Dumbledore's office, and saw a stoic Johnny Wolfbane, and no one else. The American wasn't much of a talker, and Sergei felt nervous around such a powerful wizard. He couldn't imagine the American anything less than frightening.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe he needed alone time to think, but Sergei Krum knew that that was the last thing he wanted to do. At least Jean Fulver had kept Krum's mind occupied with annoyance and intrigue from the real worries that plagued him.

It was worse at night. The images of his wife and his young son had come to haunting his dreams. His dreams had turned to nightmares lately, because he saw what would happen if he failed, and Grindelwald got a hold of the blueprints. He saw his wife and son dead in a flash of light, and every time he would be awoken to a strangled scream that was trying to claw its way out of his throat.

Before he had come to England, the dream had always faded, and had eventually disappeared, but after the Dementor attack at the Leaky Bucket, and the deadly encounter on the road to Hogwarts, the nightmares had worsened. Now the dead faces of his wife and son lingered on in his memories in the morning. This morning they had followed him all the way to the Great Hall. Only Fulver's irritating and rude reaction to Krum had turned his mind from his nightmare.

He needed to be distracted. Krum turned around, looking for Johnny Wolfbane, who had followed him from the castle, but didn't see the man anywhere. Disheartened by the fact that even the American was nowhere to be found, Sergei Krum felt himself falling into the dark realm inside him. His heart raced as the impeding ache for his family that usually came at night, now loomed over him.

That was when he heard the odd chirping near him. When he looked down, an abnormally large grasshopper sat next to him in the grass. Sergei made a move to shoo the bug away, but found that maybe even a bug was better company to have than his mind at the moment. He could even talk to it, not that the creature would know or understand what it was he said, but at least Sergei would be able to get his mind off of his family's fate.

"Out enjoying the fine weather Mr. Grasshopper?" asked Sergei.

A shrill chirp responded, and Sergei laughed at this. He was surprised by his reaction, finding very little in the past couple months to have joy in. It wasn't much, but the grasshopper did make him feel better.

"So am I. It seems like I haven't seen the sun for ages, but I'm sure you're use to this English weather much better than I would be," continued Sergei.

_Chirp_.

"Besides enjoying the weather what else do you do all day? Eat and watch us bumbling humans I assume."

_Chirp, Chirp._

"You're a talkative one aren't you?" Sergei said as he chuckled.

Krum had become so enthralled by his tiny new friend, that he had not seen Jean Fulver as the Frenchman loped down the hill towards him. Fulver stopped a few feet from Sergei, a look of worry and irritation slowly falling from his face as he watched Krum. An impish grin started to take its place. He crept up on Sergei Krum.

"I must admit that I hadn't expected the foul weather to clear so quickly," Sergei said, this time leaning down towards the grasshopper.

"I hope you're not expecting an answer Krum because you may be disappointed," said Jean Fulver sarcastically. "I expect the bug would tell you that you're a bore!"

Sergei spun around to face Fulver. Krum found he was more angry than embarrassed. He felt as if the Muggle had intruded into something very private.

"And I suspect the _Grasshopper_ would tell you that you're a rude, irritating man with a complete lack of decorum," Sergei responded. He knew it wasn't a good comeback, and blushed because of it.

Fulver stepped closer, a look of surprise and mischief on his face. Krum could almost see the wheels of Jean Fulver's delinquent mind turning, and Sergei dreaded what was coming, but it seemed Fulver wasn't in the mood for verbal retaliation.

"That all you got for me?" Fulver said as he plopped down on the ground next to Sergei. Krum had expected more of an attack or some rude comment, and was disquieted by how much Fulver had changed. Jean remained silent, looking out over the lake. _Maybe,_ Sergei thought, _maybe Fulver has other things on his mind as well. _

Without looking at Krum, Jean said, "I think I may have sat on your little bug friend!"

Sergei knocked Fulver over to his side, searching the ground where the grasshopper had once been. He didn't see the creature, or any indication that the bug had been squashed. Jean Fulver, now on his side in the grass, was laughing. It wasn't a sarcastic laugh as Krum was used to hearing from the Muggle, but a lighthearted laugh. Krum couldn't help, but be reminded of his son again. His son use to laugh like that, so heartily and full of life. Krum quickly turned away from Fulver, trying to hide the tears that had formed on the edge of his eyes, but he hadn't turned fast enough.

"It's not that big of a deal. It's just a bug!" Fulver said sarcastically.

"It's not the bug. It's you!" Sergei snapped, and immediately regretted it because Jean Fulver looked at Krum in a mixture of incredulity and slight irritation.

"What the hell did I do besides squash your little friend? Not that I care. Cry like a little girl if you want!" Fulver snapped back.

Sergei sighed, and looked away. He had such a despairing look on his face that Jean Fulver began to feel the familiar claw of guilt. Jean was not use to Sergei's lack of response, and was definitely not use to the look of pain and sorrow on the man's face. He knew Krum was an anxious creature with a dark past, but this was more than that. As Fulver watched Krum, he could see pain, physical and emotional pain, wash over the man.

"I didn't mean it when I called you a little girl…I'm sorry about the bug…Look there's no need to act like this…" Fulver stuttered, a little appalled by this new groveling he was not use to doing.

Jean Fulver had always had an acidic tongue, but never before had he felt any guilt over it, mostly because the people he spoke to deserved some of the sarcasm he gave them. This was different. Fulver knew he had said something, or done something really hurtful towards Krum, and this was starting to make him feel guilt. _Maybe the Russian has grown on you. Maybe you are beginning to see him as a friend, _Jean's inner consciousness stated matter of factually. Jean tried to turn the idea away, but found that he really couldn't dismiss a truth when it was right in front of him. It had been gradual, but Sergei Krum had grown on Fulver.

"It's not about the bug, or really about you. Well it is about you in a way. Just a moment earlier you reminded me of my son, and I haven't fully controlled my emotions when it comes to my family," Sergei said, his face tightening as he tried to control those emotions now.

Jean Fulver was stunned to hear that Krum had a son. It had never occurred to Fulver that this man would have a family. He had always seen Krum as this faceless enemy, whose actions were responsible for Marius' death, but somewhere out there a wife and a son were waiting for Krum, wondering if they would ever see their husband and father again.

"You have a son? I didn't know that," Fulver said, his tone gentler than normal.

Krum turned around to face Fulver. Sergei hadn't expected the change in the Frenchman's tone of voice. Suddenly Sergei saw a side of Fulver that he had never fully seen before; he saw sympathy. Krum smiled. Years seem to slip away from Sergei's face, and the Russian no longer looked haunted, or like a man on the brink of despair.

"My son will be four next month. I was hoping that Dumbledore would have had a way to separate the plans from me by then, and that my family would have been safely brought to England. I was hoping to see my boy for his birthday. He's getting so big, and already is showing signs of magical aptitude. My wife and I are so excited about this. Now it seems I will have to wait awhile longer to see my family. I can't bring them to England now, not when they would be in more danger around me than if they were away from me," Sergei said.

Jean Fulver said nothing, unsure how to respond. He tried to look anywhere, but at Krum. Hearing the man talk of his family brought out more guilt in Fulver, because he had planned on killing Krum not too long ago. Now the idea of Sergei Krum dead seemed so abhorrent to Fulver. Jean looked down, and saw that a large grasshopper was sitting next to him. Sergei Krum's little friend was still alive, and seemed to be listening to the conversation as well.

"Do you have a family Fulver, someone you left behind in France?" Krum asked.

The Muggle looked up, surprised by the question. Fulver had never been asked that by anyone. Most people assumed he was a lone wolf, and had always been one. Fulver was, in a way, that very image. Besides Marius and Sergei, he had never really made a lot of friends, and his family had always been small.

"I have a mother who works in a French bakery. She makes the most wonderful bread. I use to wake up to the smell of it every morning. My father is, was, a carpenter. He passed away recently. Since I am the only child, it's just my mother and I now."

"Didn't you have any friends?" Krum asked.

"If you haven't noticed, I tend to rub people the wrong way a lot. Not that I care if I do. I stopped caring what people thought of me a long time ago. As for friends, Marius was the closest friend I had. We use to get into so much trouble when we were younger, that my mother swore that we had been raised by monkeys, and had escaped from a zoo."

Jean fell silent. He felt odd talking about Marius to Sergei, almost as if he was betraying his old friend.

"Is Marius the friend who was killed in Russia, at…at my family's manor?"

"Yes," Jean said stonily. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about this anymore.

"How did he die?" Krum asked.

Jean debated on whether or not he should tell the truth. He decided that Sergei wasn't really responsible for what had happened to Marius, but all the same he felt awkward talking to Krum about it.

"He was shot coming out of your house by your family's menservants. By the time I realized what had happened, he was beyond any help."

"I'm sorry about your friend. My family can be ruthless, as you saw with Marabella."

"Do you happen to know the name of the menservants who shot him. They were tall…" Jean started.

"No, Fulver. That wasn't my house," Sergei said.

"What do you mean that wasn't your house? You lived there right?" Jean asked.

He sat up, his interest piqued by Krum's answer. Krum seemed to be made uncomfortable by the question.

"It is the Krum family manor, but my father, mother and I were disowned by the family, because I was a Squib. The only reason why I went back there was because the family was suspicious that something was going on between my Uncle and I over the plans, and they forced me to stay in the manor. They were right of course, but I have never called that hateful place home. It holds some of my worst memories there. You have no idea what it is like to be exiled by your own family," Sergei said, a dark cloud settling into his rough features. He was right. Jean Fulver had never had to face that. Though Fulver had come from a working class family, who struggled to make ends meet, he had still been loved and cherished.

"What about your mother and father? Surely they didn't feel that way," Fulver asked.

"No, my mother and father willingly took the exile. They loved me more than anything. Maybe it was because I was their only child, but they weren't going to allow me to feel bad because I couldn't do any magic. I had thought it had only been them whom felt that way, because for a long time, I never really saw the rest of the family. Sometimes I would see Marabella, but my Uncle Vladimir, the one who helped me escape, was one of the few who didn't think badly of me because of what I was."

"You're damn right you shouldn't have been ashamed. I really can't stand the people who feel the need to push onto others their ideology. Like this war with Germany. This racial cleansing business is a load of horse manure. We're all human, and we all should be treated as equals. It's sad to hear that that type of hatred has found its way into your world Sergei. I had hoped that by joining the war, that I could do my part in stopping such hatred," Jean stated.

"You make it sound like this racial purity ideology is a new thing for the world of magic," Sergei said. "I'm sorry to say this, but this type of thinking has been in the Wizarding world for centuries. There have always been people who hated or distrusted those who were Muggle-born wizards like the bartender's son Tom, or Squibs like me. It's just recently that Grindelwald has brought that hatred to the next level. The Wizarding world has always existed alongside the Muggle world, and has always tried to remain hidden from Muggle eyes. Grindelwald is spreading around the idea that Wizards should rule over Muggles for their own good. Muggle-born wizards and Squibs throw the idea that Wizards are superior into disarray. They are the first to be targeted by Grindelwald. He won't allow any other type of viewpoint to exist, but his. We live in dark times Fulver, with very little hope to keep us going."

Jean contemplated on what Sergei had said. He knew that it was a similar situation in the Muggle world. The hateful ideology of racial purity, and the idea that some were more deserving than others to rule, had always had a place in Muggle history. It was only recently that that ideology had become a monster that was out of control. Sergei was right about the times being dark, but Fulver didn't agree in the hope part. There was still hope, even when it seemed like everything good had gone.

"You're wrong Sergei. There is still hope in this world. You're living proof of it. I have a feeling that the world will get darker, but sooner or later we will come out of it, and see sunlight again. You'll see your family again Krum," Jean said.

Sergei shifted uneasily. He looked out over the lake, his eyes resting on its smooth surface as it turned from gold to the pinks and purples of evening.

"I hope so, but sometimes I get this feeling that my time is running out, that I will never see them again," Sergei said.

Fulver was at a loss for words again. He didn't want to make a promise to a man who in all probability was right in his prognosis, but he didn't want Sergei to give up hope either. Giving up hope, and allowing despair to take over was worse than death. It was a living death.

"You will see them, even if it isn't in this lifetime," Jean finally responded.

Sergei turned to Fulver, and gave him a genuine smile, a thanks. Fulver had given Krum the strength and hope that he had needed. He was about to respond when both men saw Wolfbane walking towards them. Oddly enough their friend the grasshopper was now gone, but only Jean Fulver seemed to notice this.

"Dinner is about to be served in the Great Hall. Are you guys coming?" Wolfbane said as he stopped near them.

"Yes," said Sergei confidently as he got up. Jean also got up without saying a word. Wolfbane looked at Fulver as if he were irritated with the Frenchman, and approving of him as well. Fulver wasn't sure what to make of this new attitude, and decided to feign ignorance.

"What? I'm hungry too!" Fulver responded.

The American grinned, and the three men started the trek up the hill towards the castle.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16 WHAT VIKIOUS BEHELD

Professor Vikious paced viciously in front of the school entrance, his steps jagged and halted. The dour Professor looked haggard, his face paler than normal, and his lips skewed in, what seemed to be, a permanent curl. Hair of a dull brown color hung around his face like uneven bits of string. Dressed entirely in black, he savored the cool shadows of the castle, finding the blinding sun of summer to be too bright. His black eyes glinted malevolently as he stared out of the open main entrance of the school. Professor Vikious watched as Jean Fulver strode down the hill towards the lake. The thought of the Muggle presumptuously thinking he could go wherever he pleased incensed Vikious. Who was this Jean Fulver, but a Muggle, and what right did he think he had doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted?

It had infuriated the Potions Master when he had learned that the Muggle was to share the same corridor as he, but he had expected the Muggle to figure out his place, and accept that he was amongst his superiors. Either the Muggle was incredibly stupid, or incredibly defiant because Fulver had not accepted that position. In fact, the Muggle swaggered about the castle as if he actually belonged there.

Vikious hadn't been too happy with having Sergei Krum living amongst the staff either, but he figured a Squib was better to have than a plain Muggle. Jean Fulver didn't even have a milligram of magic in him, and had never known that the magical world existed until a few days ago. Plain and simple, a normal Muggle could not be trusted. Wasn't that why the founders had originally created Hogwarts, and hidden it away from Muggle eyes? Witches and wizards had always been persecuted by the non-magical community, and why was it any different now? Vikious knew that something wasn't right with Jean Fulver, and he was going to prove it. Somehow this Muggle had fooled everyone into believing that he was trustworthy, but the Potions Master knew better. No Muggle could be trusted. Professor Vikious had a hard enough time as it was excepting Muggle-born witches and wizards, but at least they had magic in them, even if they came from a background that was thoroughly non-magical.

Vikious stopped pacing, annoyed with the very floor beneath him. He had walked over those familiar gray slabs of stones so many times in the past half hour that he wanted to spit. Professor Vikious tried to tune out his rampaging thoughts, and focus his logic. He knew that Jean Fulver could not be trusted. The way the Muggle had reacted towards Professor Frederick, and the trip to the caretaker's office proved it. Professor Vikious had seen it all.

The Professor was first aware that something odd was afoot when Jean Fulver and Sergei Krum had not left the Great Hall after breakfast as everyone else had. Vikious didn't know the particulars as to why Sergei Krum and a Muggle were staying at Hogwarts; he didn't think it the wisest thing for the Headmaster to allow to happen. He had heard from the lips of a certain brainless caretaker that Sergei Krum had something important that concerned Professor Dumbledore. This elevated Sergei Krum in Vikious' esteem. Vikious had a high respect for Dumbledore, and his great works, but nothing even Dumbledore could say would ever redeem the Muggle in the Potions Master's eyes.

After breakfast, Vikious had waited outside the Great Hall, his slouching figure hidden by the shadows in an alcove next to the door. It wasn't a respectable task that Vikious had given himself, but he gritted his teeth, and did it anyways. As students and teachers glided past him, everybody either ignored Vikious, or sheepishly turned their eyes away, which was basically the same thing; no one ever said hello, or acknowledged the Potions Master. Maybe some of his Slytherin students would have, and that would have ruined Vikious' cover, but no Slytherin that had passed had even noticed he was there.

Vikious wasn't like Professor Frederick; students didn't respect him as they respected Frederick. He wasn't like Albus Dumbledore either; nobody ever came to Vikious, and asked for his professional opinion on anything, but out of the two Dumbledores, Vikious respected and was loyal to Albus. Albus was brilliant, and as far as Vikious was concerned, Dumbledore's father was a hero for what he did to those Muggle boys. If it had been Vikious' daughter, those boys wouldn't still be alive, but such thoughts of violence rarely came to fruition for the Professor. When it came to extreme violence Vikious, oddly, didn't have the stomach for it.

As for Frederick, if there was one Professor that Vikious did not like, it would be Frederick. He didn't trust Frederick's squeaky clean record, and friendly to everyone attitude. In fact, the Potions Master had, on more than one occasion, become suspicious of Frederick, and his knowledge of the Dark Arts. Most would say that a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher should know all the dark spells out there, in order to teach a defense against them, but Vikious knew that Frederick knew more than he let on. Vikious hated false people, and thought that Frederick was the biggest one of them all, except maybe the damnable Muggle.

The Potions Master had heard rumors of a traitor amongst them. Though nothing was said as to what had prompted those rumors, the skulking Professor planned on finding the traitor himself. His obvious suspect was, of course, the Muggle. That was what Muggles did. Seeing Frederick today with this Jean Fulver had brought, in Vikious' mind, the traitor suspects up to two.

When Sergei Krum and Jean Fulver had left the Great Hall, Vikious had followed. He had shadowed them up the staircase, winding his way up to, what he supposed would be, conclusive evidence he could give the Headmaster to prove that Jean Fulver was the traitor, and Frederick was his evil cohort. Vikious followed the Muggle as Jean Fulver walked alongside Sergei Krum. The Potions Master wasn't quite sure where Frederick was, seeing him nowhere nearby, but he had a suspicion that wherever Jean Fulver was, Frederick Dumbledore would not be far behind.

Vikious was disappointed to see that Krum and the Frenchman had only followed Dumbledore and the American to Albus' office. That was not what the Potions Master had expected at all. Feeling angry that Jean Fulver was not showing his real colors, and handing Vikious the evidence he needed to get the Muggle kicked out, the Potions Master, who was hidden in the utility closet at the end of the hall, stewed in his tumultuous feelings. He watched as the Muggle tried to follow Sergei Krum into Dumbledore's office, and once again Vikious anger flared up even more. How dare this Muggle assume he had a right to barge into a Professor's office when most students would never dream of doing that!

When Jean Fulver wasn't allowed into Albus' office, Vikious' anger had turned to a malicious joy. The Potions Master had almost burst out laughing; he had to bite his hand to control the swells of giddiness inside him. For once he was glad the American was there, and had put some sort of fear, though not much, into the Muggle.

Vikious often didn't feel too comfortable around Wolfbane. The American was a powerful wizard; Vikious had never heard of someone being able to change into any creature they wanted to at will. In the Potions Master's opinion, Johnny Wolfbane was an untamed wizard, one step off from a beast, but it had been this very wildness that seemed to scare the Muggle into compliance.

Vikious had been relishing this new tidbit of information, and had not expected to see what happened next. At some time, Frederick had entered the corridor. Vikious wasn't sure when it was Frederick had appeared, and berated himself for his lack of attention, but there the mild mannered Professor stood just outside Dumbledore's office, seemingly shocked to see Johnny Wolfbane and Jean Fulver there as well.

Vikious rubbed his callous hands together. This was it, this was what he had been waiting for. His theory that Frederick was going to show up wherever Jean Fulver was had been correct. Vikious inched closer to the crack in the door he had been staring out of.

What happened next confounded Vikious. The Potions Master watched as Jean Fulver tried to force his way into Dumbledore's office again, and was rebuffed, once again, by the much bigger Wolfbane. Vikious watched as Wolfbane shifted responsibility of the Muggle onto Frederick, and how that seemed to anger the Muggle. What confounded Vikious was Jean Fulver's reaction. He observed Jean Fulver as the Muggle walked over to Frederick, and placed, what seemed to be a friendly hand, on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's shoulder. Vikious knew that this was not a good sign, and was soon vindicated in his assessment when Fulver started to dig his fingers into Frederick's shoulder.

The Potions Master had to admit that he was surprised by how easily Frederick had been controlled by the Muggle; the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher never had a chance of getting to his wand. Jean Fulver had paralyzed Frederick in pain, and thus had gotten the teacher to cooperate with him. Vikious was inwardly delighted and disturbed at the same time. He loved seeing Frederick twist in pain like a worm, but he also didn't like the idea that Jean Fulver had full control of the situation. This Muggle just couldn't learn his place amongst his superiors.

When Jean had asked to go to Mr. Borden's office, Vikious was slightly puzzled, but also gleeful that soon he would have answers to the multitude of questions he had. When Frederick had led the way back down the stairs, Vikious had followed, moving like a shadow, lithe and silent. Frederick and Jean Fulver had not even seen him following them.

As the Potions Master reached the end of the stairs, he watched, in anger, when Frederick had had the door to the caretaker's office slammed in his face by Jean Fulver. Vikious hated Frederick, but hated the Muggle even more for not showing the respect that was due to a wizard.

Now Vikious stood outside the caretaker's office, feeling that the evidence he had been searching for was just beyond the caretaker's door. He had waited until Jean Fulver had left Mr. Borden's office. Vikious licked his lips in delight. He was going to, not only, get the Muggle, but Frederick as well.

The Potions Master looked one last time out the doorway. The sun began to dip lower in the sky, turning the heavens into a deeper shade of gold. Soon the gold would meld into the lavenders of evening. It was now or never. Vikious turned toward the caretaker's door, and knocked on it loudly.

The Potions Master heard the surprised grunt of someone who had been awaken from a nap, and the angry footsteps of the plump Mr. Borden as he came to his door. The door jerked open.

"Look Fulver, I don't know anything else about your letter, or who…" Borden froze, his mouth agape in shock as he looked out the door onto the Potion Master's face.

Vikious grinned, his black eyes lighting up. He had found his evidence, and he had no intention of letting it go so easily. Frederick pushed his way past Borden, who yielded to the Professor.

"And what letter would you be talking about Mr. Borden?" Vikious said, as he shut the door to Borden's office close, trapping the caretaker and the Potion's Master inside.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17 WOLFBANE'S PREDICAMENT

Johnny Wolfbane watched the retreating backs of Jean Fulver and Frederick Dumbledore as they walked down the hall away from Albus' office. Wolfbane waited until they rounded the corner, and then allowed himself to breathe. He had sucked up a large breath, and had held it in his barrel chest during his confrontation with Fulver. The Muggle had been perilously close to being mauled.

The oxygen restriction and increased burning sensation in Wolfbane's lungs had been a necessary distraction for his body. Even now, after Jean Fulver had left, Wolfbane's jaw itched to enlarge, his teeth to lengthen, and his back to bend into the shape of a wolf.

Johnny Wolfbane had managed to gain good self control over his transformations over the past couple years, but there was still a lot he had to learn. The situation with Jean Fulver just proved it. When Fulver tried to force his way into Dumbledore's office, the shockwave of anger that flowed through Wolfbane had caught the American off guard. Johnny had felt his body as it began to change.

He hated that his emotions still triggered his transformations. Even now his entire being still trembled in horror as to what had almost happened. He didn't like the Muggle, couldn't trust him, but he hadn't wanted him dead, and dead by his own hands none the less. The idea that Wolfbane was his own worst enemy, the beast in his own nightmares terrified the American. Of course, none of this fear or emotional upheaval showed on Wolfbane's face. He had been taught by his parents that showing fear, showing your emotions gave a potential enemy an advantage; they now knew which buttons to push, what lever to use. Wolfbane had learned to show strength even when he felt none inside.

That was why most people mistook the American for being cold, and a little too terrifying to talk to. Johnny Wolfbane had never been a social creature; he could never fit in with normal people, or really understand them. Wolfbane could be said to be socially awkward.

Besides most people would never believe that a person like Wolfbane could even exist; Johnny's father had told him that he came from a rare bloodline of shape shifters. Because of this rare ability, it had opened the world of magic up to Wolfbane, but the ability carried a heavy price. Wolfbane experienced the magical world, when he was younger, completely alone. His parents had moved him out into a small shack deep within a Louisiana Bayou. They had rightly kept him away from the human population; when Johnny was younger, his transformations were out of control, and his bloodlust for the hunt had been overwhelming. Becoming an animal brought out all the bestial primal needs and drives, like the need to hunt fresh prey. If those needs had not been watched, and kept in check, Wolfbane would have become a menace to society.

His parents were patient, teaching their son to control his ability by the slow and sure method. His father was an expert in transformation control, and his mother, with her gift of foresight, could predict if any unsuspecting human was getting to close to her still volatile son, or could even catch her son in a wrong doing before it happened. That part of his mother's gift had irked him when he was younger, but he now knew how important it had been that she had used it in that way.

Wolfbane shifted uncomfortably in the now silent and empty hall. He had tried to stay as still as possible as he waited for Sergei Krum, trying to keep a calm mind, but the worries that plagued his thoughts would not allow him peace. It had been the thought of his mother's gift of foresight that had bothered him. He remembered his mother being able to focus her ability around certain people, and predict the majors dangers that lay in that person's path. Johnny Wolfbane was suppose to have inherited that gift, and, until he had come to England, he had had pretty accurate visions of the future. Now it was like the future was close to him.

Try as he might, nothing he did could help him see the danger that surrounded Sergei Krum. Wolfbane was first alerted to his faulty ability when Jean Fulver had followed Krum out the back door at the Leaky Bucket. The American hadn't seen anything beforehand that would have alerted him to Jean Fulver's presence. Wolfbane could sense that there was something or someone in Fulver's world that had a part in this struggle; the Muggle had some place in the fluid future that Wolfbane could never seem to see. That was what bothered Wolfbane the most about Fulver.

Johnny's mother would have told Wolfbane, if she were with him, that he couldn't force visions to come; God decided what or what not to show people who had the sight. Wolfbane did believe that the universe was ordered by some higher power. Where else would prophetic visions come from? Despite this belief, it still frustrated him that he couldn't have some sort of control over his foresight. He felt that he was missing something, doing something wrong.

What made matters worse for Wolfbane was that he had not foreseen the attack at the Leaky Bucket or on the road to Hogwarts. His lack of visions unnerved him. That only meant that all the things that had happened were suppose to happen. If he were suppose to stop the Dementor attack at the Leaky Bucket, or Marabella's attempt to take the plans from Krum from happening, he would have had visions about them. Those very thoughts had become sharp, constant pinpricks on Wolfbane's mind. He couldn't quite accept that these events were suppose to happen, hating the feeling of helplessness his lack of visions left him with. It was Johnny Wolfbane's job to protect Sergei Krum, but he felt that, without his precognitive ability, he was partially blind.

A horrible shudder rippled throughout Wolfbane's body. He had been getting those cold feelings for awhile. He kept thinking that he was going to fail Sergei, fail Dumbledore, and that Grindelwald was going to win this battle. Though the icy feelings were far from predictive visions, it still frightened Wolfbane. Johnny stilled his thoughts, and his emotions. If he couldn't protect Sergei Krum with visions, he would use a more practical approach; he would watch over Krum every second he could. Nothing was going to get Sergei, not with Johnny watching over him.

Ever since Sergei had arrived at Hogwarts, Wolfbane had been keeping an eye on him. Johnny knew that there was a traitor amongst them, which just brought his vigilance up another notch. Though Johnny never officially came to see Krum, he watched Sergei through the eyes of different animals, mostly mice, squirrels, or bugs. By watching Krum, he was also able to watch Fulver. Expecting to catch Fulver red handed in traitorous activities, he was surprised by the fact that Fulver, up until the Quidditch match, had hardly left the staff corridor. Of course, Wolfbane couldn't be absolutely sure of this due to the fact that he was busy following Krum around the castle; Sergei had no problem with leaving the corridor.

Wolfbane had enlisted the help of some of the more trusted teachers to watch over Fulver when Johnny couldn't. From their report, Fulver hardly ever left the staff hall, and, despite his confrontations with Professor Vikious, hardly ever spoke to the teachers. Johnny wasn't surprised by the clash between Fulver and Vikious. He couldn't see how that could have been avoided. Vikious hated Muggles, and Fulver liked to push people's buttons.

Johnny Wolfbane sighed, as his disjoint thoughts glided through his mind. Minutes passed slowly through the still air of the hall. The wait for Sergei Krum was becoming tedious for the American. Wolfbane entertained himself as he waited by working on patience and stillness exercises. It was something his mother was very adept at, and something she had passed on to Wolfbane. He sucked in a deep breath and held it, trying to clear his mind of all his worries. He then slowly let that breath out, dispelling all the bad thoughts he had floating around his brain. For a few seconds he had clarity, but too soon his doubts in his ability and his fears shot into his quiet space. Wolfbane tried again, this time focusing all of his will on clearing his mind completely. The peace lasted a little longer, but soon crashed down.

He was about to try again, when the door to Dumbledore's office opened, and Sergei Krum stumbled out. Krum's body trembled, and pain paled the man's face; he was doubled over in agony.

Johnny stepped forward, and was about to speak to Krum, but when Sergei looked up at Wolfbane, anything Johnny would have said seemed to be insufficient. Pain undulated in Krum's eyes, and a spark of fear flashed across Sergei's face. Despite his pain, Krum was still afraid of Wolfbane.

Johnny stopped where he was. Here was the moment for Wolfbane to prove that he was no one to be afraid of. Words of friendly intentions raced through Wolfbane's mind, but none of them seemed to make it to his lips. Instead he stood as still as a stone, his usual gruff exterior on display. Sergei didn't say a word, and began to walk down the hall away from Wolfbane. Johnny's mind screamed to say something comforting to Krum, but his body and mouth did not seem to want to cooperate with him. Instead Wolfbane followed Sergei, seeing that that was the only thing his body would allow him to do.

Krum stumbled down the nearby stairs that led to the ground level, and slowly made it to the main entrance of Hogwarts. Wolfbane kept a good distance in order to give Krum his space, but close enough to see where Sergei went.

Krum led Wolfbane outdoors. The sun was bright, and warm. A sweet breeze rustled the grass, and rifled through the leaves of the trees. Marigolds, violets, and daffodils had sprouted up everywhere around them. Wolfbane sucked in a deep, rich breath taking in the whole of summer into his being. He loped down the hill after Krum. Sergei headed to the lake, whose smooth surface shimmered in gold. All around them children ran and played, the birds twittered in the trees, the bees buzzed, and the wind smelled of honeysuckle.

Sergei Krum made his way to a willow tree, and sat down under its long, drooping arms. Wolfbane strode over to a nearby tree, and took up his protective position under its shade. Krum turned slightly to see Wolfbane near him, his eyes darkling in fear, but all to quickly he turned back to the lake. Here was another chance for Wolfbane; he should go over, sit down next to Krum and chat, though he was horrible at making small talk. He had a feeling he was going to start talking about the dire situation they all were in, and that was not what Krum would want to hear. Wolfbane didn't want Krum to be afraid of him anymore, but he couldn't see what it was he could do to dispel Sergei's fear.

Small talk was never Johnny Wolfbane's forte; Johnny could easily massacre words of comfort and wisdom. Wolfbane did the only thing he knew how to do; he transformed. As a grasshopper he could get close to Krum, and just listen. That was what Krum needed the most, was someone to just listen. After he transformed, Wolfbane hopped over to the side of Sergei Krum.

Krum was lost in a world of memory, his large black eyes looking out over the lake. Something in those eyes registered something in Wolfbane; Johnny had never seen so much sorrow on Krum's face before. The man's features was stretched thin in agony. It wasn't a physical pain Krum was in, but emotional type of pain. Krum was lost in it; it looked like the man was on the verge of an emotional meltdown, his entire psyche falling apart. Wolfbane did the only thing he knew he could do. He said hello, in grasshopper language that is.

The chirp caught Krum's attention, and the tired, pain riddled man looked down on the small grasshopper. Sergei Krum made a move to flick the tiny creature away, but then sighed, and decided against the idea.

"Out enjoying the fine weather?" asked Krum.

Wolfbane chirped loudly and Krum laughed heartily, a look of momentary joy appearing on the man's usually defeated face. Wolfbane swelled in happiness. If he couldn't protect Krum as he should, and he couldn't approach the man without scaring him, then at least he could make Krum laugh. Wolfbane waited patiently for a response from Sergei.

"So am I. It seems like I haven't seen the sun for ages, but I'm sure you're use to this English weather much better than I would be," stated Krum.

Wolfbane rubbed his legs together in response, creating a loud chirp. Krum smiled again.

"Besides enjoying the weather what else do you do all day? Eat and watch us bumbling humans I assume."

The American would have chuckled at the comment if he could, but instead contented himself with two very enthusiastic chirps.

"You're a talkative one aren't you!" Sergei responded, a deep rumble of laughter breaking away from the man's usually grim lips. Krum leaned in closer to the grasshopper.

"I must admit that I hadn't expected the foul weather to clear so quickly," Krum whispered, a childlike innocence imbued in his face.

Neither Wolfbane nor Krum had seen Jean Fulver as the Muggle came up from behind Sergei.

"I hope you're not expecting an answer Krum because you may be disappointed," Jean Fulver said sarcastically. "I expect the bug would tell you that you're a bore!"

Both Krum and Wolfbane were startled by the Muggle's arrival. Sergei seemed to be more angry over the comment, but Wolfbane was more concerned on how Fulver had slipped up on them unnoticed. Wolfbane had an uncanny sense of smell, and could hear voices miles away (though maybe not in the form of a grasshopper), but he had not been aware of Fulver until the Muggle was right behind Krum. He would have thought he would have felt the Muggle's footsteps vibrating in the ground, but he must not have felt them over all the other vibrations from the kids playing nearby. Wolfbane took note of how easily Fulver had come up on them. Johnny was beginning to sincerely hope that the Muggle was on their side.

"And I suspect the _Grasshopper_ would tell you that you're a rude, irritating man with a complete lack of decorum," Sergei responded.

Wolfbane would have smiled if he could. He was glad that Krum had finally stood up to Fulver, even if the comeback had fallen flat.

Fulver stepped closer to Krum and Wolfbane. Johnny had a odd feeling he should move, and very soon at that. Wolfbane hopped away as quickly as he could while Krum was distracted by Fulver. No sooner had Johnny the grasshopper left, did Fulver plop down on the ground where Wolfbane had been, saying as he sat down, "Is that all you got for me?"

Ruffled, Wolfbane took shelter in a patch of tall grass nearby. That had been a close call, and his body was feeling it. Adrenaline ran through Wolfbane's tiny grasshopper body like liquid fire; Johnny fought his body's urge to change back into a human. _That might not be such a good thing to have happen at the moment_, thought Wolfbane.

Wave after wave of frantic emotion raced through Wolfbane as his heart pumped overtime. It was times like these, when certain events or people caught him off guard, and triggered an unwanted transformation. He had to get his heart under control immediately. Wolfbane slowly eased the rapid flow of his thoughts, as he tried to clear his mind. His tiny grasshopper body was still shaking uncontrollably as his mind fought off the human transformation. He could feel his blood cells racing through his tiny veins. Now it became a challenge to Wolfbane. He would master himself. He was not going to allow his emotions to control his transformations. Johnny bent his entire will on calming his racing heart. Heart beat by heart beat, his heart slowed down to a normal pace, and the violent shaking was reduced to a slight shudder, and then to nothing at all. Wolfbane was able to keep his grasshopper shape. If Johnny was now controlling his transformations better, then maybe there was hope in gaining his visions back.

Wolfbane hopped back to Krum and Fulver. Johnny just realized that if Fulver was the enemy, Wolfbane had left Krum alone with him for too long. Wolfbane was relieved that all the two men did was talk. Johnny relaxed, knowing that stress could be just as effective of a transformation trigger as his emotions.

He came into the conversation as Fulver said to Krum, "You have a son? I didn't know that!"

Wolfbane was just as stunned to hear this bit of news as Fulver seemed to be. Dumbledore had told Wolfbane very little about Krum. Albus had asked the American to watch over and protect Sergei, and Johnny had never asked for more information. Now Wolfbane was curious to hear more.

"My son will be four next month. I was hoping that Dumbledore would have had a way to separate the plans from me by then, and that my family would have been safely brought to England. I was hoping to see my boy for his birthday. He's getting so big, and already is showing signs of magical aptitude. My wife and I are so excited about this. Now it seems I will have to wait awhile longer to see my family. I can't bring them to England now, not when they would be in more danger around me than if they were away from me," Sergei said.

Wolfbane wanted more than ever to have his visions back. Now it wasn't just Sergei Krum he was protecting, but Johnny felt that Sergei's wife and son's lives were in the mixture as well. The American had to find a way to see the enemy that he knew, in his gut, was coming for Krum. As Wolfbane worried once again about his lack of visions, the conversation slipped past him like a stream. Sometimes he would dip into it, catch a snippet of what was going on.

Mostly he tried to stay out of it as much as possible. As the conversation became personal between the two men, Johnny Wolfbane felt more like an eavesdropper than ever before. Jean Fulver may not mind Wolfbane hearing about his past, but Wolfbane knew that Krum would have. To Fulver and Sergei, Johnny was apart of the Hogwarts world, the magical world that was not too fond of people like Krum and Fulver. Though Wolfbane saw Krum and Fulver as his equals, and would never have treated them any different, that still wouldn't have stopped the men from being wary of Wolfbane, especially Krum.

Johnny had instinctually known that Sergei Krum had a dark past before today. Maybe it was the way Krum's eyes would never meet a wizard's eyes, not even Dumbledore's, or maybe it was how terrified Krum became around the Slytherins. Johnny had been with Krum and Fulver the day they met Tom Jr., though at the time he had been a mouse. Now he was hearing about Krum's past for himself, and Wolfbane was discomforted with this. He knew that Sergei would never had told Wolfbane any of this, and Johnny felt it was wrong to hear it.

Wolfbane tried hard not to listen, but caught small bits here and there all the same. He learned that Krum had been ostracized by his family because of his lack of ability. The fact that Sergei had been disowned by his own family had infuriated Johnny, and Wolfbane had to quickly cut off his anger.

Johnny knew what it was like to be treated unfairly for something he had no control over. Though Wolfbane had great magical abilities, and came from a rare blood line of shape shifters, he was not fully accepted by the magical community. His ability to transform tended to be confused with the werewolf breed; werewolves were far from being treated as humans, especially by certain families. Wolfbane was a true shape shifter. If he bit someone, that person wouldn't become a wolf at the full moon, or even change at all. If anything, all they would get was an infection from the bacteria in Wolfbane's mouth, and nothing more. The only people who would get Wolfbane's shape shifting abilities were his future children. That still didn't stop the magical community from being wary of him. People, wizards or not, did not like or accept anything that was different. Wolfbane had been run out of villages before because of his difference.

So to hear that Krum had dealt with the same treatment for something he had no control over, gave Wolfbane righteous anger, but it had also endeared Sergei to the American. He had found a fellow person who had been through the same treatment. If only Krum knew who similar they really were, then maybe Krum wouldn't be so terrified of Wolfbane all the time. Maybe they could become friends. Wolfbane didn't have any friends besides Dumbledore, and he wished he had more.

Johnny was surprised by Fulver's reaction to Sergei's story. Sergei had just finished telling Fulver how his Uncle Vladimir was one of the few people in his family who wasn't ashamed of Krum.

"You're damn right he shouldn't have been ashamed. I really can't stand the people who feel the need to push onto others their ideology. Like this war with Germany. This racial cleansing business is a load of horse shit. We're all human, and we should all be treated as equals. It's sad to hear that that type of hatred has found its way into your world Sergei. I had hoped that by joining this war, that I could do my part in stopping such hatred from spreading," Jean stated.

_I couldn't have said it better, well maybe without the use of the word 'shit'_, Wolfbane thought.

Wolfbane had never seen Fulver as he saw him now. The Frenchman was angry, more than that, he was livid. Johnny had always seen Fulver in his more sarcastic moods, but he had never really seen the Muggle mad.

Wolfbane had to grudgingly admit that Fulver may not be such a bad person. Jean seemed to fully believe in the idea that all people should be treated equally and fairly. In this one way did Fulver and Wolfbane have any similarity to each other. Maybe Johnny and Fulver could get along, sooner or later. The more and more that Wolfbane learned about Fulver, the less suspicious Johnny became of Fulver being a traitor. Wolfbane wasn't sure if he was being beguiled or not, and sincerely hoped he wasn't.

Wolfbane had not heard what was said next, his thoughts bent on trying to figure out the mysterious man named Jean Fulver. Johnny was still slightly suspicious of Fulver because of the fact that the Muggle had known that Krum had had something with him. Wolfbane had also noticed that Fulver was very resourceful. It had not been an easy feat tracking Sergei Krum all the way from Russia to England. This could mean that Jean Fulver was adept at fooling people.

Wolfbane had also been curious about this Marius, who had given Fulver the information about Krum. If Wolfbane was correct, two Muggles had been told or knew information that pertained to the Magical world. Johnny had to wonder if there was a major leak in the Magical community. How were these Muggles finding out this information?

Wolfbane felt the clash of his rational mind that believed Jean to be a traitor as it butted heads with his instincts that told Wolfbane that Fulver was trustworthy. Even with all this suspicion and doubt that surrounded Jean Fulver, Johnny Wolfbane's instincts won out against his rational mind; Wolfbane rarely ignored his instincts. They tended to be accurate, sort of like a smaller version of the prophetic visions.

As Wolfbane had been rambling through his own thoughts, he had not realized that the sun was setting, and it was close to dinnertime. The American had been alerted to the fall of the sun when his stomach started to growl.

Wolfbane hopped away from Krum and Fulver. When Wolfbane reached the shade of a nearby tree, he waited until no one was around to see him change, then transformed back into his human self.

He came out from behind the tree, dressed in the black robe he had had on earlier, and started to walk towards Krum and Fulver. As he neared the two men, Jean Fulver noticed Wolfbane first. Johnny Wolfbane stopped a few feet away close enough to alert them to his presence, but not close enough to scare Krum.

"Dinner is about to be served in the Great Hall. Are you guys coming?" Wolfbane asked.

Wolfbane watched as Sergei got up confidently; hope seemed to have been restored to the man. Whatever part of the conversation Wolfbane had missed, Fulver had somehow instilled hope where there had been none before. Jean Fulver stood up as well.

The American noticed that Jean Fulver had a mischievous little grin on his face. Fulver kept looking at Wolfbane, and then back down to the spot where the grasshopper had been.

_So the Muggle had known that I was the grasshopper!_ Johnny thought.

Irritation began to prickle under his skin. Jean Fulver was a little too cocky, and too smart for his own good ( _and had almost sat on me on purpose_, Wolfbane thought). Deep within Johnny, a trickle of respect for Fulver's intelligence had begun to grow, and Wolfbane was annoyed with that fact. Still Johnny had to give credit where credit was due. Johnny could tell that his emotions were on his face, and that Fulver was reading them.

Fulver pretended he hadn't seen Wolfbane's irritation or approval, as he stated loudly, "What? I'm hungry too!"

Wolfbane grinned, and the three men started to walk back up to the castle.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18 A GLIMPSE INTO THE FUTURE

_The warm summer night air lazily drifted in between the neat rows of houses, which straddled a long and windy cobblestone street. Crisp stars sparkled in the pitch colored sky, and luminescent yellow lights spilled out of the quaint cottage windows as the people of Hogsmeade began to settle in for the night . The last of the sounds of a busy day had left, leaving only the quiet and peace found in the stillness of the night._

_As the night wore on, Hogsmeade's residential district began to grow dark as the lights from candles and fires were put out, and people fell into deep slumbers. Around midnight, almost all of the residents had gone to sleep, all except one. _

_Lilah had been told by her parents to go to sleep hours ago, but the dream world seemed to be eluding her for the moment. Sitting in her room on the top floor, little Lilah looked out on the sleeping town. Her house sat near the top of the hill where the majority of the people of Hogsmeade resided. Her window had a clear view of the road that snaked down into the commercial district._

_Of course Lilah knew none of these big fancy terms. All she knew was that her street meandered down into the freedom of the shop district, and the wonderful candy shops she always dreamed of visiting. She had stared down that road so many times, wishing she could go down it; one day her mother and father were going to take her to the shops, one day she was going to smear her face in Honeyduke's chocolates, or visit the Zonko's joke shop. Lilah sighed. She wished that day would come soon, but until then, Lilah stared out her window, wondering what it was like in the center of town._

_And that was when she saw them. They came out of the darkness of the night. At first she thought them to be shadows. It had frightened her so much that she ducked down, lying flat on her bed, which sat under her window. She clutched her blanket in her tiny hands fiercely, and slung it over her face. Under her blanket she stayed until the suffocating heat and her curiosity became too much for her to bear._

_Minutes passed, and no sound could be heard. Lilah began to berate herself for her silly notions; it had only been shadows she had seen, and nothing more. Lilah's head slowly peaked out from under her blanket, and inched up to the windows ledge. She looked out on the street once more. Nothing could be seen on the road, but she watched out her window none the less, not fully convinced that nothing was out there. The shadows had been moving, she knew they had. Lilah scanned the dark places near the houses, places not even the moonlight could illuminate._

_And that was when she saw the creature. It was large and it slunk amongst the shadows of Mr. McDougall's house only three houses down and across from her. It stopped, and a pair of iridescent eyes looked up at her. Lilah froze, her heart pattering wildly in her chest. The creature didn't blink or move, and neither did Lilah. They stared at each other for a long time, until Lilah didn't think she could stand it anymore._

_Moonlight drifted closer to the creature, and finally one beam fell over the beast. It was a wolf, but Lilah knew it wasn't an ordinary wolf because it walked upright. She was looking at a werewolf. Lilah rubbed her eyes. She had been told that werewolves existed, but never came to Hogsmeade; her parents had promised her that. Now she was looking at one, no TWO! Another pair of iridescent eyes popped up next to the first one. Lilah nearly screamed as now two werewolves looked up at her, but managed to stifle that impulse._

_But the werewolves were not alone. Lilah watched in horror as all kinds of nightmarish creatures slithered and loped out of the shadows and onto the main street. She saw goblins and hags. Along the rooftops, vampires were perched, their burgundy eyes and pale faces piecing the black night._

_Lilah leapt up from her bed, and sped over to her door. She jerked it open, and ran to her parents room who was just one door down from hers. Pounding frantically on their door, Lilah couldn't understand what was taking her parents so long in getting up. The young girl constantly looked over her shoulder, cold spasms of fear jolting her spine, as she expected a werewolf to jump out of the shadows of her own home._

_Finally, after what seemed like forever, Lilah's father opened the bedroom door. His tired, grizzled face looked out on his panic stricken daughter. At first, he was puzzled, but soon he was alarmed. Lilah had never looked so scared before. Her father bent down to his daughter._

_"Lilah, darling. What's the matter?"_

"_There's werewolves and vampires outside!" Lilah stammered._

_Her father relaxed a bit. Clearly she had had a nightmare. He patted her on the shoulder._

_"There hasn't been a werewolf or a vampire in these parts for a long time. Hogsmeade is protected by spells that keep those types out. Now go back to bed," he stated._

_Lilah couldn't believe she was hearing this. She wanted to shake her father, get him to see reason. She knew what she saw, knew what waited just outside the door._

_"No, I saw them, standing in the street next to Mr. McDougall's house. And I think they saw me, in fact I'm sure they saw me! Daddy please, you have to believe me!"_

_Her father stood up, his irritation for being woken at such a late hour for so silly a thing beginning to show._

_"Lilah, it was just a nightmare. Now go back to bed," he stated._

_Lilah didn't, and had no intention on moving. She was going to make her father see reason before it was too late. Her father reached down, and tried to nudge Lilah to her room. He was becoming more and more irritated by the minute, but that was when he heard it. The " it" in question was a long, drawn out, hungry howl._

_Lilah's father froze, as did his daughter. Lilah's mother came stumbling out of the door of the bedroom, coming to see what was going on, and hearing the howl as well. _

_"Peter, what was that?" Lilah's mother said, her words soaked in fear._

_"It's just a wolf, nothing more!" her father stated, trying to sound brave, when he really didn't feel it._

_"It's not a wolf! It's a werewolf. I saw it, them actually, in the street. I swear I did!" Lilah sputtered. Tears threatened to fall from her frightened eyes. They were wasting time arguing when they should be hiding._

_Suddenly a second howl split open the silence, and was soon followed by a cavalcade of howls and screeches answering it. Now not only were the werewolves responding, but so were the other creatures._

_"Peter just check outside the window!" Lilah's mother said. "Lilah darling come to momma!" _

_Lilah heeded her mother, and went to her as she watched her father quickly move down the stairs, and walk over to the window next to the door. What Peter saw nearly stopped his heart. His daughter was wrong. There weren't two werewolves, but four, and a handful of vampires as well. Peter had been stunned to see the iridescent eyes staring back at him, but his blood ran cold at the fact that these creatures weren't near the McDougall house anymore. They were right outside their door._

_Peter backed away from the window, and ran up the stairs to his wife and daughter._

_"Marla, take Lilah to the attic! Lilah stay in the attic until we come to get you!"_

_Peter ran to his and his wife's bedroom, and soon returned with two wands in hand._

_Marla, Lilah's mother, rushed her daughter to the closet at the end of the hall that led to the stairs, which led to the attic. Lilah was pushed into the closet by her mother, who then shut and locked the door. Lilah, too terrified to move, sat near the door, her tears flowing freely down her face. She huddled on the last step closest to the door, her knobby knees tucked up close to her tiny chest. She closed her eyes, and tried to cover her ears._

_A loud bang resounded throughout the house, as something broke through the front door, and furious howls tore through the air. The sounds of glass shattering and furniture being smashed boomed throughout the house. Lilah could hear her parents screaming out spells, terror edging their voices . _

_As Lilah listened, she heard her neighbor's door being broken down as well. And that was when the screaming began as the once quiet night turned chaotic._

Johnny Wolfbane knees nearly buckled from under him. He staggered, and would have fallen if Sergei Krum and Jean Fulver had not caught him. Krum and Fulver were caught off guard by Wolfbane's scream of terror and buckling knees, trying their best to hold up the much larger man. Wolfbane clenched the sides of his head, his mind seeming to want to burst out of it. He could still feel Lilah's terror, could still hear her parents as they screamed in horror. Wolfbane's stomach clenched, and he tumbled to the ground, waves of nausea rolling over him.

He hadn't had a vision in so long that it was disorientating, but this one had been a strong one. Usually the harder the visions hit Wolfbane, the closer the event he saw was to happening. Wolfbane had never been hit so hard by a vision that it made him sick. His mind raced and panic engulfed him. Mixed signals ricocheted all throughout his body. He would have transformed if his body hadn't been as disorientated as his mind had been.

Jean Fulver and Sergei Krum stood uneasily at Wolfbane's side, not sure how to help, not really sure what had happened. Fulver noticed Wolfbane's skin changing colors, and knew it would be better if they didn't interfere. The American was not in control at the moment, and would more than likely ripped their faces off.

Sergei Krum kneaded his hands, as worry shrouded his eyes. He wanted to go over and help Wolfbane, but decided against it when he saw that Fulver didn't. The Muggle wasn't afraid of anything, so if Fulver was being cautious, then it probably would be better to follow his example.

"Are you alright Wolfbane?" Fulver finally asked.

"Dumbledore…Hogsmeade. I need to see Dumbledore!" Wolfbane sputtered. His huge body shuddered, and his face clouded over in panic. This unnerved Fulver to no end. Never had Wolfbane been this agitated before.

"Well we were on our way to the Great Hall for dinner. Perhaps you will see him then," Sergei responded. By this time, Johnny had shakily gotten to his feet.

"No I need to see him now!" Johnny said as he flung his words out at Krum like knives. Krum took a step back, his terror of Wolfbane returning. Fulver was equally made uneasy by Johnny's reaction, but he remained where he was.

Wolfbane, on the other hand, was not paying any attention to Sergei or Fulver; he was swiveling his head around as if he expected to see Dumbledore at any moment. Without another word, Wolfbane bounded away from Krum and Fulver, scattering the remaining students who got in his way. Jean Fulver and Sergei Krum watched him go with trepidation.

Wolfbane sped through the castle, his eyes, ears and nose keenly searching the halls for Dumbledore. He ran past Borden as the caretaker stumped out of his office. Wolfbane skidded to halt.

"Do you know where Dumbledore is?!" Wolfbane snapped.

Borden click his tongue in irritation. He glared at Johnny.

"I have had enough of people demanding things from me for one day. I won't take it anymore. Do I know where Dumbledore is? Of course. He told me where he was going after Krum left his office in case someone needed him. Maybe I should go and see him for myself for all the rude encounters I have—"

"Just tell me where he IS!" Wolfbane roared. His eyes flickered yellow, and his words rebounded off the walls. Nearby students stopped dead in their tracks; one girl dropped her toad, and nearly cried. Borden was terrified, his knees knocking together.

"He's on top of the astronomy tower," Borden whispered.

Wolfbane bounded away from Borden and was soon out of sight of the caretaker.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19 ON TOP OF THE ASTRONOMY TOWER

Dumbledore stood on top of the astronomy tower, looking out over the golden land, and ruminating over the past hour. A cool breeze wafted over the tower with delicate smells of spring riding in its rivulets. Dumbledore closed his eyes.

He was trying hard to forget the twisted expression of pain on Sergei Krum's face as Albus had performed his spells and counter spells. Their first session had led to some positive results, but Dumbledore still wondered if what he was doing was right. Sergei had agreed to undergo the spell treatment, but still the pain in Krum had been almost too much for Dumbledore to witness. It had only been Sergei's wife and son, Elena and Ivan, whom had kept Krum sane. Albus knew this because it was their names Krum had screamed out for, repeating them like a prayer, as if their names alone could protect him. No matter what others would ever say about Krum, Dumbledore would remember that Sergei had the heart of a lion, strong and brave.

"Albus…"

Dumbledore's eyes popped open, and he swiftly turned around. He had heard his name whispered, falling on his ears like velvet. He would have recognized his sister's voice anywhere. Dumbledore scanned the rooftop, his eyes searching every nook and cranny he could find. Ariana had spoken to him, Dumbledore was sure. Albus' heart raced with joy and anticipation in seeing his little sister again. His rational mind screamed she was dead, but his heart believed in the impossible.

The soothing smell of lavender perked his nose, and Albus could have sworn his sister was nearby, as if she were right by his side.

"Albus…"

There is was again, that soft whisper, but this time it was followed by a musical laugh, subtly hidden in the wind. Dumbledore thought he was losing his mind. He knew his sister would haunt his nightmares until Grindelwald was dealt with, but he had never imagined that he would be followed by her voice and laughter into the waking world.

Suddenly he felt a tug on his robe. When he looked down, a tiny hand was clasped around his much bigger fingers. Ariana looked up at him with her wide blue eyes, her auburn curls falling around her face like beams of amber sunlight. Dumbledore blinked. He couldn't believe what he was seeing and feeling. His rational mind was thrown into a frenzy, swirling around for a plausible explanation for this. It settled on that he was seeing Ariana because he was either crazy, or his subconscious needed to take on a form to speak with him (another form of crazy). Either way, it was not a good thing that he was seeing his sister who had been dead for years.

And this apparition wasn't the older Ariana that Dumbledore had seen dead; it wasn't the mentally damaged Ariana, or the despairing Ariana. It was Ariana as she had had been when she was younger; it was Ariana before she had ever met those horrible Muggle boys. This young Ariana smiled sweetly, her eyes glistening with innocence. She didn't speak, didn't have to. Her scent and her laughter was all that Albus needed; it comforted him to be around her, even if she was just an illusion.

"Are you real, or just apart of my subconscious mind?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Ariana nodded, but said nothing. Dumbledore wasn't sure which question she had answered. A tidal wave of emotions bore down on him, as if they had waited years to come. Dumbledore sighed; it was a wet, jagged sigh, filled with tears. His eyes were hot and tears brimmed on their edge. Dumbledore trembled. He closed his eyes, trying to control his emotions. When he opened them, Ariana was gone, and Albus could feel a little bit of his heart had gone as well.

He turned around, scanning the Astronomy Tower rooftop for any sign of her. As Albus searched, the door to the Astronomy Tower roof edged open, and Professor Vikious strode towards Dumbledore. Albus stopped searching for his long, dead sister, and replaced his grief with a smile. He could not allow his grief to show. People depended on him to be strong.

Professor Vikious stopped a few feet from Dumbledore, a huge grin covering his face. Vikious looked like the cat whom had finally caught the canary. Dumbledore was made uneasy by this. Vikious never looked this triumphant before, and Albus knew something must be going on.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you Albus, but I've learned recently of some disturbing news, and I thought I should bring it to you first before I tell Headmaster Dippet. You may be able to do something about this new development I've found," Vikious stated proudly.

Albus turned to fully face Vikious, his eyes now stern and ready for whatever Vikious was about to say.

"How can I help you Professor Vikious?" Dumbledore replied.

Vikious' smile widened, and he moved closer to Dumbledore.

"It seems that our little Muggle guest—"

"You mean Jean Fulver," Dumbledore corrected.

"Yes. This Jean Fulver has some contact outside of Hogwarts communicating with him. With the news of a traitor amongst us, I thought it important to know that the Muggle is talking to someone outside of Hogwarts!"

Dumbledore was stunned by the news. If this was true, then Fulver must be the traitor. All the trust that Dumbledore had put into Fulver was starting to crumble away. What's worse, but Jean Fulver has been in Sergei Krum's company for a long time. Wolfbane may be able to watch Krum most of the time, but one of these days Wolfbane was going to slip up. Dumbledore seriously hoped that he had not brought the traitor to Hogwarts with him. Something nagged at Dumbledore. Some part of this picture was wrong. Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, contemplating what it was that was out of place. Then it hit him.

"How did you know there was a traitor amongst us Professor?" Dumbledore asked.

The smile on Vikious' face faded. Puzzlement and doubt replaced his pride. He had not expected Dumbledore to ask him that question.

"Rumors fly, Albus, faster than anyone can anticipate. You should know better than anyone how people will talk!" Vikious stated.

Dumbledore wasn't convinced by this answer. There was only one person who had loose enough lips to let secrets out, and Albus had the wisdom not to tell Mr. Borden anything about a traitor. Yet somehow Vikious knew there was a traitor.

"What evidence is there that Jean Fulver is communicating with someone from the outside?" Dumbledore asked.

Vikious' smile returned, though it wasn't as triumphant as it used to be.

"I have just been to see Mr. Borden, our dear caretaker. He has informed me that a letter arrived to Hogwarts addressed to the Muggle. It came during the middle of the Quidditch match, while no one was around. Don't you find it curious that not only does the Muggle seem to know a lot about our world, but also that he is communicating with someone outside of these walls?"

"Is there evidence of this claim Professor? If there is, the evidence must be brought to the Headmaster immediately!" Dumbledore responded. A small part of him had dropped to his stomach. He still didn't want to believe that Jean Fulver had managed to fool him.

"Well there isn't any evidence yet. The letter in question disappeared out of Borden's office, but there was a letter. I'm sure if we brought the Muggle in to see the Headmaster for questioning, that we may be able to get the truth out of him. Or better yet, let's get rid of this Fulver now before he betrays us all!"

"And what led you to Mr. Borden's office in the first place?" Dumbledore asked. He still had a feeling that something was off about this situation.

"Well I have been following Jean Fulver and Professor Frederick for awhile--" Vikious started.

"Why were you following Jean Fulver, and why on earth would you follow my cousin? I'm sure Professor Frederick is not the traitor!" Dumbledore stated angrily.

Albus was broiling inside. Ever since his father had been put into Azkaban for what he did to those Muggle boys, everyone in Albus' family had a stigma placed onto them. The pure-blood families applauded them for their supposed hatred for Muggles, and the rest of the wizarding world scorned them for this supposed hatred as well. No one could seem to understand that Percival Dumbledore had not gone after those boys who had tortured Ariana because he hated Muggles; he had gone after those boys because he hated the boys for what they had done to his daughter. That was a major difference no one ever seemed to notice. It saddened Dumbledore to know that Frederick was just as affected by this stigma as the rest of his family.

Professor Vikious was stunned to hear the anger in Dumbledore's voice. He hated that Dumbledore had taken what he had said in a way that the Potions Master had not intended, but Albus had to be made aware of the facts.

"Dumbledore, I never meant to offend you. I've been following Frederick around because he always seems to be around Jean Fulver, and if Jean Fulver is the traitor, then you must be ready to accept that Frederick may be a conspirator as well. I mean he knows more about the Dark Arts than anybody else here. He may have gone over to Grindelwald's side!" Vikious stated.

"Frederick knows a lot about the Dark Arts because he is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He has to know what is out there in order to teach a defense against it. I have complete faith in Frederick. I know for a fact that he is not working with Grindelwald. In fact, he is working on something with me that may stymie Grindelwald's plans. I will entertain the idea from you that Jean Fulver may be a traitor, though I believe in my heart that he's not, but I will not tolerate Frederick being slandered!" Dumbledore's voice rang out. He hadn't been this angry for a long time.

Professor Vikious was dispirited by Dumbledore's reaction. He had too much respect for the man to say anything more about his suspicions, but he really did think that sometimes Dumbledore could be blind to the people he had around him. Albus wanted to believe that everyone was good, and Vikious was afraid that he was going to, one day, be disappointed. Vikious knew for a fact that most people were selfish, greedy or ambitious, and that they will one day let you down.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss Professor?" Dumbledore asked curtly.

Before Vikious could answer, the door to the Astronomy Tower's rooftop banged open, and Johnny Wolfbane burst out of it. Albus and Vikious turned to face Wolfbane, stunned by the man's entrance. Albus knew something was wrong by the look of sheer panic and terror on Johnny's face.

"Albus! I just had a vision! Hogsmeade is going to be attacked, and it's going to happen soon!"


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20 HUNGRY BEASTS

The rattle of the cage, and the ear splitting howl woke Marius. He opened his eyes and saw a pair of hungry, yellow globes looking back at him. Marius sat up straighter in his chair, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He couldn't fathom how he had been able to fall asleep, but he had. Marius averted his eyes. He knew better than to look into the eyes of a werewolf.

Instead he let his sight travail across the hard packed dirt floor. Dusty sunbeams leaked through the rotted wood walls of the dilapidated barn, spilling over the floor in gold puddles. Damp, dark hay lay scattered over the earth, mixed in with flecks of saw dust. The barn where they kept the werewolves, vampires, and other nightmarish creatures reeked of dirt, sweat, feces, and dried blood. When Marius had first been given guard duty over the chained and caged creatures in the barn, he thought the smell alone would kill him, but he had gotten used to it.

What he hadn't gotten used to, and what he would never get used to, were the creatures he was guarding. The howl of the werewolves still sent shivers down his spine, but it was garbled speech of the vampires, and their disturbingly still burgundy eyes that unnerved him; he saw intelligence and anger in them, and he hoped that he would never have to face these creatures unchained.

The werewolf near him howled again, becoming more and more restless, shaking the cage more vehemently. Near the werewolf, the other nightmarish creatures began to grunt and growl in response.

Marius had had to spend the last couple of weeks next to these creatures, and really didn't appreciate this fact at all. He was sure that Conivius, the man who had brought him here, his contact, had done it on purpose, though Marius had no idea why he had done it. Conivius had given the job of guard duty over these creatures to Marius, but the Muggle still had no idea how he was going to be able to protect himself, if these beasts ever escaped.

He guessed he could shoot them. Marius looked down at the gun at his waist, and suddenly wished his friend, Jean Fulver, was there with him. Fulver would have known what to do, and he was more of a sure shot than Marius.

Marius shifted uncomfortably in the small, ancient wooden chair he had been given. He didn't want to look up at the creatures that were there with him; he didn't want to see the slobbering jowls of the werewolves who were caged up in small, metal contraptions; he didn't want to look into the deep eyes of the vampires, who had been chained to the wall; and didn't want to glimpse the hags, whose disfigured faces, and misshapen bodies terrified Marius. There were other creatures in the barn, and each creature had been caged, or chained up by Conivius and his wizard cohorts when they had arrived to their new location just a few weeks before.

Marius had no idea where Conivius and his fellow wizards had gotten all these creatures, and how they had caught them. He had seen them give the werewolves some sort of special injection, an experimental potion that kept the werewolves from changing back into their original form. Marius shuddered. He hated what they did to these beings, but found himself powerless to stop it. He had watched as these souls were slowly being driven insane by their lack of sustenance, and cramped spaces. Occasionally the wizards would come in with scraps of food for the beasts, giving them just enough to keep their strength up, but too little to completely satisfy their hunger. They had been fed very little over the past month.

These creatures had arrived a week after Marius himself had arrived at the headquarters. The headquarters were an old farming house near the great school of Hogwarts. Conivius had said that the Muggles who had owned the farm had left on their own volition, but Marius was being to doubt this. Marius had been there for three weeks, just short of a month, and he had noticed that clothes still hung in closets and toys were still scattered over the floor in the children's play room. The Muggles had left in a hurry and had taken nothing with them.

He remembered the day he had arrived at the headquarters, and how odd it had felt walking into the ghostly house for the first time. He remembered Conivius's gleeful reaction to being on English soil and this had disturbed Marius; he had followed Conivius willingly to England after he had faked his death in Russia, but now he wondered why he had been so willing. He remembered it all, as if it had happened just the day before.

Marius had first met Conivius when he had been out on his solitary spy mission for the French government. At first, he had been tailing the man secretly, never letting anyone know, not even the French government, about what he was up to. He, of course, was fully unaware that he was following a wizard. Marius thought he was on the trail of a high ranking military official or an insider to Hitler's regime. He thought that this man was his way in to finding out what the Nazis were up to. One night he followed Conivius into a dark pub. That was when Marius's life was changed forever.

It was the night where Marius learned that there was magic in the world, and people who knew how to wield it.

Conivius had known that Marius had been following him, and had waited until he could get the Muggle alone to confront him. Conivius then proceeded to tell the Muggle about the world of magic, and all about his master, Grindelwald. It was the first time Marius had ever heard of Grindelwald, and had seen magic performed in front of him. From that moment on, Marius became obsessed with learning magic for himself. Conivius had promised Marius that if the Muggle helped Conivius keep an eye on a certain person, that he would insure that Marius would learn how to do magic.

Marius used to always getting his way, and fully convinced that he was someone special, accepted those terms of agreement without much thought, and set off to watch the person his new companion needed to be watched; that person was Sergei Krum.

Grindelwald and Conivius had heard suspicions from the Krum family that one of their members, Vladimir Krum, had been secretly working with the plans. They also had viable information that Vladimir had open up contact with Sergei Krum, a member, the family mentioned with complete disdain, who had been disowned by the family awhile back.

Both Vladimir and Sergei were watched closely. Vladimir was a gifted wizard, known for his experimental spells, and he was not one to be taken lightly. He was a respected member of the wizarding community in Russia, and Grindelwald knew better than to take on someone of that standing from a pure-blood family. Sergei, on the other hand, was not as much of a worry for Grindelwald or his second in command, Conivius, but that didn't stop them from keeping an eye on Krum. Since Sergei was so thoroughly immersed in the Muggle world, Grindelwald knew he would have to get a Muggle to watch Krum; only a Muggle would know the ins and outs of the Muggle world, and a Muggle spy could easily blend in.

That was what Marius's job had been. He was to follow and watch Sergei Krum, and in exchange Grindelwald and Conivius would teach him how to do magic. Marius had always known he was destined for great things, and took the job with glee, reporting to the French government that he was going undercover, in order to get them off his back.

Everything was going smoothly. Marius watched Sergei and his family in their home in Moscow. He watched when Sergei went to work everyday at the same time, and returned home everyday at the same time; Sergei was an aide to a high ranking politician. He came to know Sergei's wife Elena as he watched her wait in the food lines at the market, buying only what the allowable quota of food was. He watched little Ivan Krum running unsteadily about the yard. Occasionally the little boy managed to move things without touching them, or cause objects to change colors. Marius had come to know the routine of Sergei Krum and his family, but all of that changed when Marius's cover was blown.

Sergei Krum started taking random walks, and Marius knew that people didn't often break their routine unless there was a reason; so he began following Krum whenever he took these spurious walks. One day in the middle of fall Sergei strolled over to a nearby park, and sat down on an empty bench. Minutes passed and nothing happened; Sergei hadn't moved a muscle, looking about him as if he were waiting. Soon Marius saw what Krum had been waiting for.

A stocky gray haired man walked up to Sergei and sat down. Marius immediately knew that this man was different; the man wore a dark suit that would have befitted a gentleman of the 1890's, but was not a style worn in 1939.

The Muggle thought he had had a good cover, but then he went and did something stupid; he had moved to get a closer spot to the pair of men. The older gentleman must have spotted Marius, because he quickly whispered something to Krum, got up and walked away.

Krum remained on the bench for a few moments, trying to pretend everything was normal, but his nervous fidgeting, and terrified glances around him were giving him away. Soon though, Krum got up and walked home.

The very next day, Marius knew something was off. He had taken up his usual post in a boarded up house across the street from Sergei, watching the Krum's from the openings in the slats. He noticed that there was a flurry of activity around the Krum residence, mostly from the servants who were coming and going from the house. Sergei had not left for work that day, and this worried Marius; it was yet another thing that Krum had done differently.

In fact, Marius had not seen any of the Krum family all day. He kept trying to catch a glimpse through the windows, but was having no luck. It was when night fell, and the servants had locked up the Krum house that Marius knew something wasn't right. The servants never locked up the house; Sergei liked to do that himself.

Marius became absolutely sure that things had gone wrong, when a few wizards Apparated just outside Krum's front door. Marius watched in horror as they wizards blasted the door in, and started to tear the Krum residence apart. He expected to hear the terrifying screams of Elena Krum and her son, and felt his stomach lurch because of it. He had never wanted Krum's family to get hurt, but as he waited his tension subsided; no screams were coming. This puzzled Marius, and his confusion grew when he saw Sergei Krum, his faced bruised, being led out of the house alone by a pair of wizards. His wife and son did not follow. Marius looked at Krum's face and saw a slight glimmer of triumph; his family must have somehow escaped before the attack, but Marius was puzzled as to how they had done it.

He watched as the wizards took Krum and Disapparated away. Stunned by the turn of events, Marius moved like a shadow out of the abandoned house, speeding towards the truck he had hidden nearby. Jumping into the truck quickly, he was soon off.

Conivius had set up a meet in a familiar dark tavern later on that evening, and it was to this tavern and meeting the young man headed to. There wasn't much he could do about Sergei at the moment. Marius wondered what he would tell Conivius. He doubted the news of Sergei being captured would be very pleasing to Conivius, and then a sudden horrid thought pounced on Marius. What if Conivius knew about Sergei being taken away? What if it was planned all along?

As Marius drove deeper into the heart of the Moscow, his new worry began to nag at him. When he arrived to the meeting spot, the sun's sluggish glow hovered over the Moscow horizon, seeming to be afraid of the looming darkness. Marius sucked in a shaky breath as he walked into the tavern. He knew exactly how the sun felt.

The tavern was a dull, weary place. Its plain bare walls seem to leech the colors out of the atmosphere. Simple wood tables and benches filled every inch of the sawdust covered floor. It was drab, and unimaginative. Older people sat around tables, eating and drinking, and talking quietly. Marius missed, more than ever, the elegant beauty of Paris, its vivacity; this place was completely lifeless.

He quickly spotted Conivius and his wizard entourage at a table in the far back; they were the only spirit in the place. As he moved towards Conivius, his dread began to rise; why would Conivius need his entire wizard following to be there for a simple meeting with a Muggle spy? Then it hit Marius; this was no simple meeting. The closer Marius got to the wizards, the more he noticed the anger in their faces and their actions. Afraid to sit down next to a group of angry wizards, he arrived at the table, and decided to stand, his eyes and face as steady as they would ever be.

Conivius, who was in the middle of a whispered debate with a wizard to his left, looked up when Marius arrived at the table. The Frenchman saw a flash of anger sweep over Conivius's face, but it was soon gone.

"Ah Marius! You've come. What news do you bring? Has everything gone to plan?" Conivius asked breezily.

Marius could feel the malice underlying his counterpart's words. It unnerved him, just about as much as the blank faces of the wizards. Marius knew that _they_ knew he had failed. Since it was pointless to lie, Marius decided to tell a portion of the truth.

"Not exactly," Marius replied. His hands drifted closer to the gun at his waist. He could taste the anger and tension in the air. Conivius' eyes were lit with it.

"Not exactly," Conivius stated, more as a known fact than surprise. Conivius turned an imperious eye towards his cohort to his left, the one he had been talking to a moment before. The glance was brief, but noticeable by the Muggle. Conivius turned back to Marius.

"Tell me Marius. What happened today that was 'not exactly' the plan? Did something happen it shouldn't have?" Conivius asked.

Marius felt his muscle tense up; there was a lot that happened that shouldn't have. Everything was turning on him faster than he could think.

"Sergei Krum has been captured and taken by a group of wizards. His family was not with him when he was captured," Marius gulped as he said the next words. "I think they may have escaped."

Conivius's smile became predatory. The wizard next to him looked at Marius in disgust. Marius memorized this other wizard's features: dark and ruddy, his brows one thick, black line. He already knew he and this other wizard would not be friendly with each other anytime soon.

Conivius was in no mood for games. His face was stern, and his eyes sharp lances.

"We already know that Sergei has been taken. In fact, we were the ones who took him because of something you did!" Conivius spit out.

Marius recoiled from the table. He had had a feeling that this was the case, and began to consider all the implications of this statement.

"Something I did?" Marius said, trying to feign innocence.

"Yesterday, you were watching Krum as I asked you. You followed him to a park. Correct?"

"Yes." The answer seemed to want to stick like glue to the back of his throat.

"When Krum was in the park, an older gentleman came to see him. Yes?"

"Yes. I thought it odd how the man was dressed. He sat next to Krum for a moment, and they started to talk. I moved to get closer to hear what they were saying, but the older man didn't stay long."

"He didn't stay long because my cousin Vladimir saw you!" This came from the man to the left of Conivius, the man with the unibrow. A sneer disfigured his rough features. Conivius looked slightly annoyed by this man's interruption.

"This is Yuri, one of Sergei Krum's Uncles," Conivius stated as he pointed to the man with the unibrow. "The man who saw you with Sergei in the park, the older gentleman, was Sergei's other uncle, Vladimir. We have information that he planned on giving the plans to Sergei. As my friend Yuri pointed out, Vladimir saw you at the park before the transfer could take place, and warned Sergei. He probably even told the Squib what you look like. Luckily we got wind of this early and were able to capture Sergei, but not before Vladimir, Sergei's family and the plans disappeared. Because of you, we lost an opportunity to get the plans from Vladimir. You have failed us!"

Marius wanted more than anything to run from the spot he was in as he watched Conivius pull out his wand. Surely the man would know better than to kill Marius in a public place, but Conivius did have a temper; Marius would see anger darkle in his stone gray eyes. Unable to move, and finding his tongue a heavy, useless thing, Marius waited for their judgment.

"So what do we do with a useless Muggle? You can't track Sergei anymore, and tracking his family will do no good. It was one of the first things we extracted from Sergei; he said his family had nothing to do with the plans, and didn't know where they were. Sergei says he knows who has them, but we still haven't gotten that information from him yet. As of now, we think Vladimir still has them. You, on the other hand, have no value at the moment, and it's pointless to keep you around."

Marius felt his anger rise up in him. It was not pointless to keep him around; he could still do a lot of things that Conivius and other wizards couldn't. It was his anger that opened his mouth to speak.

"I am not useless. If it wasn't for me, you would have never known that Sergei had changed his routine. You wouldn't have caught that tiny fact. This can still be rectified. I know someone who is an excellent tracker, someone I can convince to help us. My friend and I can track Vladimir if you want. We will get the plans, and I will get my reward as our bargain stated!"

Yuri snorted in disdain, then said, "You track Vladimir? You couldn't even track a Squib without being caught. How do you plan to track a powerful wizard?"

"Yuri's right. Vladimir will not be your concern. I have wizards who will follow him. Hmmm. You said you have a friend, someone who is better than you. Maybe I should have asked him instead of you!" Conivius retorted.

"Jean would never have agreed. He wouldn't have been interested in learning magic, but he will listen to me. We have been friends since we were boys. Together we will get your plans back!" Marius replied. Just mentioning his friend's name made him feel better.

Conivius lowered his wand, and then turned to Yuri. They began to whisper between each other. Occasionally one of them would look up at Marius; they were deliberating on his fate. Finally the conversation ended.

"We have agreed that you may still be of use. Sergei still has not cracked about where the plans are, but we feel Vladimir won't let Sergei stay in our grasp for too long—"

"My cousin always did have a preference for that Squib over my Marabella, which is absolutely revolting," Yuri mumbled, interrupting Conivius once again. Conivius shot Yuri a venomous look, but Yuri caught none of it.

"Find this friend and I will give you further instructions later. Remember Marius, neither I nor Grindelwald will tolerate failure from you again! And this time, your friend will be just as much marked for death as you will be if you fail!"

The words rung like hollow shots out of a gun, and hung in the air around Marius like stale smoke. They jerked him out of the slight slumber he had been in. A cold tremor passed through him as those awful words rebounded in his mind.

Marius steadied himself on the rickety chair, looking around him. He half expected to still be in the tavern, but recognized the dull weather beaten boards of the barn. He must have dozed off again. The creatures had settled down a bit, maybe out of weariness or boredom. Only the vampires looked at him curiously; he must have been talking in his sleep, but he didn't care anymore. That memory was now haunting his waking moments.

Marius still felt the fear he had felt that day, that looming horror. That day had lit a fire under Marius' backside. He had done exactly as Conivius asked. He went to France to get Jean; it hadn't taken much to convince his friend to come because Jean was loyal. Marius knew this of course, and thus only told Jean enough information necessary to get his friend to come.

Fulver followed Marius across the war torn European continent to Russia, where Marius finally received the information he had been waiting for. It was in the pub in the little farming community not far from the Krum estate that Marius learned of his new assignment.

Conivius told Marius that Sergei had escaped with the help of Vladimir. They had been right; Vladimir had come back. This had surprised Marius. It seemed illogical and odd that the wizard would come back to save his nephew, especially if he had the plans. He would have thought that the plans would have taken precedence over a nephew. Marius saw something wrong with this, and suspected Krum may have been more important than anybody realized, but neither Conivius nor his fellow wizards saw anything odd about it.

What it did mean was that Marius and Jean were needed more than ever. Sergei had disappeared into the Muggle world, and only Muggles knew how to navigate that world. Due to the slow and finicky transportation situations in Russia at the moment, Marius knew they still had time to catch up with Sergei. Now they needed an accelerant; Jean needed something to ignite his hatred. Marius knew his friend well enough to know that if Jean felt that his friend had been killed, then he would follow Sergei into Hades to get revenge.

So Marius planned out the attack on the estate, leaving Jean the part of execution. Marius knew that the plan he had created was too simple, and was afraid that Fulver would see through it, but if Jean did, he didn't say anything. Everything went as planned. Jean's first explosion was precise, and showed how well Fulver could control explosives. So far Marius's plan was going well.

Next Marius raced into the house alone. He had been afraid that Jean wouldn't have allowed him to go alone at first; their argument had been quite heated. Fulver felt it foolish that Marius go into enemy territory alone, but eventually conceded to Marius's stout opinion.

From inside the house, Marius watched as the second explosion was set off. It took place near the front of the house, right where Jean couldn't see it. Marius watched as the orange flames rolled up into the sky like hot waves. Members of the family went out to the veranda to watch the first fire as it raged near the back of the house and ate away at their gardens; it was a necessary sacrifice for them to make. He watched as three other members of the family went out with their wands and began to put the second fire out by magic. This was the only fire that they could put out by magic without being seen by Jean, who waited in a copse near the back end of the estate; the fire near the rear of the house was being tamed slowly by the servants and buckets of water.

This meant that Marius didn't have much time. He knew the fires would soon be put out, and that there would only be one explosion left. Marius paced inside the gray dining room as he waited for Sergei Krum's grandfather; he was beginning to wonder what was taking the Krum family so long. They had a part of the plan to fulfill as well, a part that they had prepared before Marius had arrived. As Marius waited, he looked around at the brown walls with nothing on them, except for brackets of candles and the occasional dusty family portrait. A few house elves moved silently around him, cleaning and tidying up.

Finally, as the second fire was nearly tamed, Marius watched as two menservants dragged a filthy beggar from the lower depths of the house. An elderly wizard followed behind him. This must be the Krum Patriarch. He had the same dark facial features of any Krum.

First the elderly wizard pulled out the exact type of clothes that Marius wore and handed them to the beggar. The beggar took them precipitously, not sure why fresh laundered clothes were being given to him. Despite the beggar's misgivings, he put the clothes on. They hung long on the man since they were the exact match to the specifications Marius had given of his height and weight. Next Marius watched as the elderly wizard pulled out a clear flask of a bubbling mixture. He walked over to Marius, plucked a hair from his head, and dropped the hair into the flask. The potion immediately turned a dark red.

The menservants grabbed the beggar by his hair, who begged helplessly in Russian, and pulled his head back. They forced the potion down the middle aged man's throat. Marius gasped in shock as he watched the man's features bubble, and his body lengthened to Marius's height. Soon he was looking at his own image; a tall, lean youth with vibrant green eyes (though the beggar's eyes were terrified), and wild, brown curls surrounding an oval face.

The elderly wizard was not finished. The wizard quickly placed the Imperius Curse on the beggar. Marius watched as the man's eyes, his eyes, glazed over, and his mouth fell open awkwardly. The wizard said a few commands in Russian, by which the beggar acknowledged with a nod.

The last part of the transformation required the menservants to let the beggar go, and step away from him. The wizard conjured up a spell of twisting, and writhing snakes of light. They latched onto the beggar, causing the man to shiver. Marius watched as the spell disappeared into the man, and wasn't quite sure what had happened.

The wizard turned to Marius, and said, "Do not touch this man. I have placed a tracking spell on him, so that whoever touches him first will have the spell attached to them. This should make tracking your friend and Sergei easier. I couldn't put it directly on Sergei because of something Vladimir did, but I can put it on your friend. You trust this Fulver? He won't lose Sergei?"

"Of course I trust Jean. He is an excellent tracker, but that spell won't hurt him will it?" Marius asked anxiously.

"He won't even feel it. That is the beauty of this charm that I made! It'll wear off your friend once we have Sergei in our custody." The old wizard smiled a wolfish grin. Marius was relieved by the information, but a little disturbed by the wizard.

"We don't have much time. The Polyjuice Potion will wear off this man in about fifty minutes. We have to get him on his way," stated the wizard, and with that, he issued a few commands to the beggar. The beggar repeated the commands back to the elderly wizard in perfect French. Marius wondered in the beggar knew a little French or if it was the Curse at work. The wizard seemed pleased, and issued a last command that was both harsh and urgent. The beggar nodded his head compliantly.

Immediately the man, who looked like Marius, ran towards the cellar and down the stairs. The menservants waited a few moments, then ran after the look-a-like. The Krum patriarch beckoned Marius to follow him, and he led the young Frenchman through a series of drab rooms to a room that faced the back of the house.

Marius watched through a dirty window as the beggar burst out the cellar door, followed closely by the menservants, who carried pistols in their hands. He watched as the beggar weaved in and out of the gun fire laid down by the menservants, quickly making his way to the back of the estate. He watched as Jean sped up to the border of the estate in the getaway truck, flung the door open and began laying fire cover for the look-a-like. The beggar had almost made it to the truck undamaged, but was then shot in the back by one of the menservants.

Marius turned and looked at the elderly wizard at his side in horror. He had never thought he was going to be a party to murder.

The elderly wizard caught his frightened look, and said, "He has to be shot. The further he gets from me, the easier it will be for him to resist the Imperius Curse and tell your friend things he shouldn't. You wouldn't want your friend in more danger than he has to be right?"

Marius was terrified by the man's blatant callousness for life. He began to really wonder what it was he had gotten he and his friend into.

Over the weeks, Marius had gone over those last memories again and again, wondering if he could have done something to save the beggar. That thought had been a constant prick on Marius's conscience. He also thought about Fulver, and what pain his friend must have gone through. He didn't want to hurt his friend, but he didn't want to lose the opportunity of becoming a wizard either. Marius envisioned himself casting some of the very spells he had seen others do, seeing himself become a great mage, someone like Vladimir, a person people looked up to. Conivius had promised he would be taught magic, if he just carried out his end of the bargain, except now his end of the bargain had now turned into guard duty over hungry beasts.

Marius thought about Jean, and what his friend was doing at the moment. He had sent Jean a letter, and the traitor inside the castle had delivered it for him. He hadn't gotten anything in return, but it could be that Jean had no idea how to communicate to him without getting caught. He did think he had gotten the message to Fulver that he was alive at the Quidditch match, a game he had to finesse his way in to see. He did have full faith that his friend would help him. Fulver had never failed him, and had always been there for Marius through all his crazy obsessions. He just had to become a wizard, and he would do anything to get it. He knew Jean would help, and yet a doubt lingered in Marius.

Marius had changed since the last time he had seen Jean; he was no longer as carefree and joyous as he used to be. Now he was always afraid and constantly haunted, even in his waking state, by his memories. He wondered if Jean had changed as well; would his friend forgive him for faking his death? Would his friend understand his latest obsession and agree to help? As Marius pondered this, he hadn't heard the door to the barn open.

"Marius! Marius!"

Marius snapped to attention, his thoughts fading into the background of his mind. He looked around him to see whose voice had spoken. The vampires were eyeing him curiously or as a snack, he couldn't tell which. When Marius turned towards the barn door, he saw a disapproving Yuri standing in the door way, framed by the slanting sunlight of evening.

"Get ready. We let the beasts loose tonight on Hogsmeade!"

Marius nodded numbly, his heart pounding in his chest. His stomach churned as he looked on the beasts around him, knowing that in a few moments they would be turned on innocent civilians. Marius shuddered, trying to shut away this thought.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story. I know it took a long time for me to get this chapter up. This was a hard chapter to write and it may be a little rough in places. Please feel free to leave me feedback. Thanks again!


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21: HOGSMEADE

Though the hour was nearing midnight, the heat of the day still clung to everything. It clung to the drooping black leaves of the gray trees, to the darkened window panes of the houses, and to the skins of the witches and wizards who shifted restlessly, partially from the heat, and partially from the state of tension and terror they were in.

Albus Dumbledore stood starkly still, his skin pearly in the bright moonlight. All those who passed him could have mistaken him for a pale statue. Only the wave of his auburn hair that rippled slightly in the hot, sluggish breeze, and his wintry blue eyes made those who passed him realize that he was human.

Despite his outward calm, he was barely able to control the rapid palpitations of his heart. He could feel his pulse throbbing in every vein. A visible shudder ran through his body; the wait was unbearable.

Over and over again he ran through all the spells and enchantments he and other witches and wizards had placed around the village. _Alarm spells placed on strategic spots around Hogsmeade, especially on residential district- Vikious and I worked on. Anti-dark spells- Frederick worked on. Vikious, Frederick, and Dippet back at Hogwarts protecting the castle, and Krum. Also keeping an eye on Jean Fulver. _Dumbledore's thoughts paused when he thought of Fulver and his suspicious letter, but he pushed the notion hastily aside, focusing on the list of spells again. He would deal with Fulver later. _Repelling charms- Aberforth, Vikious and a few witches and wizards of Hogsmeade created. Double shielded charm around the entire residential and commercial district- Dippet, Wolfbane and I worked on._

No matter how many spells had been created and used, no matter how many witches and wizards there were to defend Hogsmeade, Dumbledore knew it wasn't enough to protect the entire village, not nearly enough; there were holes in the protection, but only key wizards knew of the flaws. Dumbledore felt an old worry take on a fresh skin; what if the traitor let the enemy know where those holes in the protection were? If that happened, then Dumbledore would know that the traitor was someone close, and that thought alone sent a blast of glacial cold into his bones. With that fear in mind and with Wolfbane's help, he secretly posted Aurors the ministry had sent to the spots of little or no protection. He told no one, but Wolfbane that the Aurors were going to those spots. If all went well, then there wouldn't be any trouble tonight, but if there was a traitor in their midst, a lot of things could go wrong. At least, the plan of protecting Hogsmeade felt a little better to Dumbledore, but he still worried. He feared for the surrounding countryside, and the nearby Muggle villages; there was nothing that Dumbledore could do with so short a warning to protect them.

Albus turned and watched his brother Aberforth as his brother ordered last minute preparations. He noticed that Aberforth stood as far away from him as he could, and never looked at him. Although Albus had tried to talk to his brother, Aberforth had not been keen to speak to Albus except to say what was necessary for the protection of Hogsmeade. At least Aberforth had believed him when he told him about Wolfbane's vision, and had done a swift job of getting the townspeople organized. It seems the people of Hogsmeade respected Aberforth, or were at least willingly to be led by him.

Aberforth had made the protection of the village easier by convincing those who lived on the edge of town to move into the residential district, if only for tonight. People were terrified and a little skeptical on the reason behind it, but Aberforth had convinced them by the use of the word "prophecy". He didn't tell them who had had the vision, since Johnny Wolfbane was looked on as being only a little better than a werewolf. No one wanted to be wrong if it so happened that the vision had an iota of truth to it.

So the farmers moved their families off their farms, after casting protective spells over their livestock, and moved in closer to the center of town. The people of Hogsmeade had opened their homes to these fleeing families. Lilah, the little girl from Wolfbane's vision, and her family had taken in a lot of these families and had been very helpful in setting up a large kitchen for those refugees staying in makeshift tents.

And in the middle of all this was Aberforth, ordering and organizing all the details. Albus was glad that his brother had found a place of acceptance, even after the scandal his father had created, but inside Albus, a small ache had opened up again in his heart. Ever since Ariana had died, and Aberforth had blamed him for her death, they had not been on speaking terms. Albus would have done anything to talk to his brother again, and have a semblance of a brotherly relationship, but it was not to be.

Dumbledore pushed yet another thought from his mind, trying to hide from his own pain. Instead, he focused his attention on figuring out why Grindelwald would attack the village. The only reason he could come up with was that Grindelwald wanted Albus to know that he knew Albus had Sergei, and he was showing that he had the means and will to attack. Dumbledore should have known how his former friend would have reacted; Grindelwald knew he couldn't get at Dumbledore while he was in Hogwarts; the castle was too well guarded, but he could attack Hogsmeade, wreak havoc on innocent civilians, which in turn put pressure on Dumbledore.

As Dumbledore watched Aberforth trying to calm the frightened children of Hogsmeade, he felt his anger inside him ignite, not towards his brother, but towards the man he had once considered to be a friend, and the man who had torn his family apart; Grindelwald was not going to win this battle. Just as Albus was feeling anger, he also felt a sliver of guilt. He knew all about guilt, how it sunk into the pit of one's stomach, and never left, how it clung onto every thought tenaciously. Dumbledore had had enough guilt over Ariana to last him a lifetime, and he was not going to let Grindelwald hurt anyone else, and add another scar to his conscience. Dumbledore was determined that Hogsmeade not fall.

Wolfbane let a growl roll out of his throat, and Dumbledore snapped to attention. He noticed the increased tension in his American friend's thick shoulders as Wolfbane paced at his side. He also saw the occasional shift of Johnny Wolfbane's skin color. Albus knew his friend was not completely in control of himself, but what little control he did have was enough. Wolfbane was anxious because the time was getting closer and closer to midnight. The beasts should be near the outskirts of town by now.

Albus steadied himself. He tried running over the spells around the village one more time, but found it difficult to do; other thoughts kept pushing their way to the forefront of his mind. One thought was persistent over the others; the pain of not speaking to his brother was competing with the perplexing situation with Jean Fulver. He couldn't escape the mental image of Fulver's face when the Frenchman had been put under house arrest. It had not been a pleasant scene.

After Dumbledore had received the news of the letter from Vikious, followed by the news of an imminent attack by Wolfbane, Dumbledore could not ignore the warning signs anymore, even though his heart told him different. A part of him wanted nothing more than to hand over the problem to the Headmaster and be done with it, but another part of him knew he couldn't; if anybody should be held responsible for Fulver, it should be him since he brought the Muggle into the castle.

Dumbledore, Frederick, Wolfbane, and a triumphant Vikious headed to the Great Hall to intercept Fulver. When entering the hall, they decided to wait until after the end of the year feast; there was no need to frighten the students more than necessary; they didn't need extra fear and doubt the night before they left for home.

So the quartet of wizards waited, keeping up vigilance over the Frenchman. Jean was at the staff table next to Sergei and was holding a seemingly harmless conversation with him. Dumbledore was surprised that the two men were getting along, which added to his doubt about Jean Fulver being the traitor, but then the thought of a letter arriving to Hogwarts addressed to the Muggle pushed that thought aside.

Jean Fulver must have known that something was not right, because he was waiting defiantly outside the door of the Great Hall. Dumbledore, Frederick, Vikious and Wolfbane surrounded Fulver and Sergei, who was at Jean's side. Krum was angry at first, but was soon hurt and puzzled when Vikious told him of the letter Fulver had received. Dumbledore could see that Sergei felt betrayed, especially since he had considered Fulver to be a friend.

Fulver, on the other hand, had a look of stark rage glimmering in his eyes. It had been Vikious who had taken up the charge of putting Jean Fulver under arrest, and leading him back to his room. At first, Fulver had resisted, but soon saw how pointless it was to fight when four wands were pointed at his chest. With eyes searing in anger, his lips sealed by a Silencing Spell, and his arms bound firmly behind his back, Fulver was led to his room, trailed by a stupefied Krum.

Once Fulver's bonds were cut and he was locked up in his room, Vikious took it upon himself to guard the door. He was quite smug in his victory, a feeling that Dumbledore could not share, and could barely stomach. He felt in his bones that this was wrong; something in this picture did not fit. The only time Vikious had not stood guard was when he and Frederick left with Dumbledore to help set up the defenses around Hogsmeade. Borden and other members of the staff had been asked to stand guard over Jean's room, but Fulver never tried to force his way out, which was odd to Dumbledore. Once Vikious had finished with his part in the defense of Hogsmeade, he had taken up his post again as triumphant as ever.

Frederick, on the other hand, had wanted to stay with Dumbledore and protect the village, but Albus needed some one he trusted to stand guard over Sergei Krum. Sergei was the one who needed to be protected over all things, and Dumbledore had confidence in his cousin's ability to give Sergei his protection. As a consequence, Sergei was not allowed to leave his room as well, but the man had taken his confinement with a sad compliance. Dumbledore had a feeling that Krum needed time to digest all the new information he had learned, especially if Sergei had considered Fulver to be a friend.

Albus sorely wished that Fulver wasn't the traitor, but if not Fulver, then the implications of who it was became too much for Albus to think of.

"Albus!" Screamed Wolfbane.

Albus snapped out of his thoughts, his eyes quickly turning to his friend at his side. Wolfbane pointed towards the sky above the village opposite them. Red sparks shot up into the air, near the back end of the commercial district; it was also one of the places with the smallest amount of protection. Dumbledore felt his heart skip a beat. _They knew where the holes were!_

Wolfbane roared, and transformed into bear. He barreled through crowds of frightened wizards towards the spot, and Dumbledore followed behind him. Aberforth made a move to follow with a small sortie of wizards behind him, but Albus stopped him.

"Aberforth, stay where you are! We don't know if that will be the only place they will attack!"

With that said, Albus Disapparated away. Aberforth ordered the wizards to spread out along the border lines, vigilant and ready.

Albus Apparated into confusion. He had been right to place the Aurors on the weak spots, because there was a nasty fight taking place between the Aurors with Wolfbane at their side against vampires and werewolves. Dumbledore hit a nearby vampire, who was feasting on the neck of an Auror, with a powerful repelling charm. The vampire let out a snarl as he was hit by the spell, and was sent flying backwards, slamming into the ground twenty feet from them. The creature didn't get up.

Albus began aiming at werewolves who charged him, their eyes filled with hunger, their muzzles red with blood. Werewolf after werewolf fell under Dumbledore's well aimed spells. Near him, Johnny, the bear, worked his way through various creatures, sometimes battling a few at a time. His large paws sliced through the faces and arms of werewolves, his jaws crunching down on available throats.

Spells lit up the night as the Aurors, Albus and Wolfbane held their ground on the onslaught. Bodies hit the ground, howls and screams rent the air, and the smell of blood stung everyone's noses.

Suddenly the night was silent. The still forms of werewolves and vampires littered the ground around them, mixed in with wounded Aurors. Groans rose up into the oily night. Albus watched and waited, his heart pounding inside him. His hand was steady as he aimed his wand, even if his stomach was rolling inside him. He saw the shadows of other werewolves dart away from the battleground. They may not have made it in here, but they may try another spot.

Albus turned to an Auror near him. She was a witch with astounding green eyes, and short cropped blonde hair.

"Go to all the weak spots and warn all the Aurors of an immediate attack!"

She nodded and quickly Disapparated away.

Albus and the others waited apprehensively, their eyes scanning the darkness that was hedged in between the unused buildings of the commercial district. They listened.

Wolfbane panted at his side, his huge form heaving with exhaustion. Albus could see his friend was wounded, but it was nothing serious.

No sound could be heard. Far away the howl of werewolves rang throughout the night, becoming more and more distant. Soon no unnatural sound could be heard. Albus couldn't believe the attack was over so soon. Something wasn't right. Obviously the traitor must have told the enemy where the weak spots had been, but had not known that Dumbledore was going to post Aurors in those weak spots. Only he and Wolfbane knew that. No one else, not even the Headmaster, knew that. Although, Dumbledore was glad that Wolfbane and Jean were now cleared in his mind of being the traitor, his thoughts deepened, trying to put the pieces together faster, in order to find this traitor.

Without Albus realizing it, Wolfbane had disappeared from his side. It was only when he returned that Dumbledore realized he had been gone. Now in his human form, Albus saw the extent of the damage done to Wolfbane. Dark scratches raked down his arms, scars that would be with him until the day he died. Albus wondered if Wolfbane, being what he was, would be affected by werewolf scratches. Johnny didn't seem too worried about them.

"Where did you go?" Albus asked.

"I was checking the perimeter, all the weak spots," Wolfbane replied. He was calm, and that eased Dumbledore's mind. Johnny would not be this calm if they were still in danger.

"And, what's the news?"

"Aberforth told me that he saw sparks in the other weak spots a little after the sparks went up here. I just got reports from Aurors and Hogsmeade wizards in those areas. They said that though there were nasty fights in those areas, the beasts must have realized they didn't stand a chance, and left. We got lucky Albus. From what I saw of the werewolves, they had been starved, which made them fiercer, but also not as strong. Someone purposely sent these hungry beasts after us. If we hadn't of had the Aurors in those weak spots, the village would have become a bloodbath!"

Dumbledore grimaced, his anger rolling up inside him. It was bad enough that Grindelwald had sent some of the darkest creatures to attack Hogsmeade, but he had sent them half starved. Albus wondered at the lengths Grindelwald would go to get Sergei Krum and his plans, and shuddered at the thought. He knew his former friend was capable of true evil to get what he wanted.

"You're right. It would have been a bloodbath. We should send word to the surrounding counties of the danger they now face with…" Dumbledore stopped as he watched his friend's body stiffen, a milky haze descending over Wolfbane's eyes. Dumbledore knew when a vision was coming on his friend, and pulled closer to catch Johnny if he need assistance. Inside Albus' mind, red alarms started to go off. Maybe the attack wasn't over.

But the visions soon were, and Wolfbane was only a little disoriented; he stumbled a bit, but soon regained his balance. His composure was far from being calm; Wolfbane wore a haggard look of sorrow, horror and a small amount of puzzlement.

"What did you see Wolfbane? Did you see the outcome and effects of tonight? Will there be bloodshed over the countryside?"

Wolfbane looked at Dumbledore, his eyes dark holes of worry.

"Apart of what I saw had to do with tonight," Wolfbane began, but the sudden shudder than ran through the American stopped any further information.

"What do you mean by that?" Albus asked.

"I saw three separate scenes, three possible futures. One of the futures is unstoppable because it is a consequence of tonight, but the other two we still have time to stop, and Albus we must stop them from coming to pass!"

"Well, what did you see? What happens tonight we can't stop?"

Wolfbane sighed, his eyes large and vulnerable, and Albus suddenly realized how taxing this must be for Wolfbane. Johnny walked around a bit, and Albus followed him, knowing his friend just needed to move about.

"I saw one of the wounded werewolves wandering onto a nearby farm. It was the farm of one of the farmers Aberforth had not been able to convince to move into the center of town. They have a small boy named Fenrir. He will be bitten, but I sensed something about this boy is different. An obscured future lies in front of the child."

Dumbledore had heard of the boy. He was one of the boys that would have gotten a letter to come to Hogwarts. Dumbledore knew that Dippet wouldn't allow this boy to come now, not with all the parent's objections that would be sure to come. Just this past year, Dippet had had to face a lot of criticism about admitting the new boy Hagrid, who was obviously part giant. If he, Albus, ever became Headmaster, he would accept all children who wanted to learn, even ones who had darkness inside them that they couldn't help.

"Is there more Wolfbane? You said that only a part of the vision had to do with tonight. What about the rest?" Albus asked.

By this time, Albus and Wolfbane had walked closer to the center of town. Cleanup had already begun as wounded witches and wizards were tended and the bodies of the dead were moved. Johnny stopped, not wanting to get any closer to other people. He looked terrified, and puzzled.

"The other two parts I saw were somehow interconnected, and also seemed to hinge on a series of decisions made by various people that have yet to be made for them to come to pass. The first I saw was about Sergei Krum." Johnny stopped as he saw Albus tense up.

"What about Sergei? Does something happen to him Wolfbane?!" Albus sputtered, his heart shuddering by the unexpected terror that gripped it.

"It wasn't clear if something bad does happen. All I saw was Sergei standing on top of the Astronomy Tower. I remember it was a clear night, the sky was bright and the stars sharp behind Sergei. He stood terrified and rooted to the spot, looking at me in pure fear. I saw falling stars behind him, and then it switched to the third vision.

The third vision was clearer as to what was going on. The Leaky Bucket was under attack, and Tom and his son were being held as hostages by Sergei's cousin Marabella. She was giving an ultimatum to us that we either give up Sergei or she would start killing hostages. Oh God, Albus, I saw her kill the bartender's son, Tom, in front of his father."

Albus felt his knees go weak. Johnny looked at him, his face stern.

"All we have to do, Albus, is keep Tom at Hogwarts for the summer. He can't be killed if he isn't at the Leaky Bucket," Wolfbane stated.

"That's impossible," Albus said, though he barely heard the words that came from his own mouth.

"No it's not. They can bend the rules for once to save this boy's life!"

Dumbledore looked at Wolfbane, his body now a tremble.

"Tom left Hogwarts early this morning after breakfast by special request. He and his father were going on a father-son vacation together!"

**A/N:** Okay, so this chapter has one of my first major battle scenes. Feedback on the

execution of the battle scene would be nice. Remember that this is rated T, so it

can't be too violent. Thanks to all those people who have read the story so far. Please let me know what you think!


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22: SUSPICION AND DREAD

Frederick drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. Albus was late and he was never late. Frederick felt his irritation rise. Ever since the Hogsmeade attack, Albus had become more secretive than ever. Frederick had been helping Albus with the experimental spells they were performing on Sergei Krum. It had been quite frustrating to Frederick because he was not use to failure, but whatever Vladimir Krum did, it made the blueprints impossible to detach from Sergei; Krum would have to be killed for the plans to come unattached, but that would activate the family spell and destroy the plans anyway.

Frederick had to admit that Vladimir was a genius. He hated being presented with a problem and having no way to fix it. But what he hated most was not being allowed to work on the problem at all. Albus had decided to take over Sergei's perplexing dilemma on his own. It had not been a pleasant conversation between the two Dumbledores when Albus had told Frederick that he would rather work on Sergei alone. Frederick had become incensed because he knew what that was really about.

It had been a few days since Hogsmeade had been attacked, but the attack was still fresh in everyone's mind and had set the teachers and Headmaster on edge. Though the students had left the school, save for a few who didn't have anywhere to go for the time being, and had made it home safely, the teachers were still on high alert. Most had opted to stay at Hogwarts for the time being just in case Hogsmeade or the castle came under attack again. And many had heard the rumors that had been spreading about a traitor in their midst. Suspicion and dread had seeped into the castle walls.

But there were other things that were troubling the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As of late, there had been people about that had been doing odd things, Professor Vikious being one such person. Frederick had caught the Potions Master up on the roof of the Astronomy Tower many times since the attack. Frederick had an idea about what Vikious was doing up there, but didn't have all the details; whatever it was he was doing, the Potions Master was always worn out when he came down.

Frederick sighed in frustration with everything that was happening around him. He looked out his window that had a pleasant view of the lake, and watched as the noon sun turned everything to gold. Albus must be done with whatever experiments he was doing on Sergei without him. He had promised to see Frederick and to at least keep him informed on the developments, even if Frederick couldn't participate.

A knock at Frederick's door aroused the man from his contemplative state. He quickly got up from his chair and strode over to the door. When he opened it, he was greatly disappointed as to who stood on the other side, but didn't allow an ounce of it to show on his thin, pale face.

Tom Riddle, on the other hand, had not been able to cover up the flash of emotion that Frederick saw. A glint of a mischievous nature had shot across his face as brilliant and as fleeting as a shooting star. Even if Frederick had been disappointed, he did have to admit he was intrigued as to why the fourteen year old boy was at his door; all classes had ended and no students, save a few, were left at Hogwarts. Frederick knew Riddle's story; every teacher knew his story.

He was the unfortunate, but brilliant orphan, who, every summer, returned to a small orphanage in London. This year the orphanage was undergoing renovations and the children had been moved to a smaller location. Tom had not been factored in on the space availability in the new location and therefore had no real place to go for the summer until the renovations were complete.

"What can I do for you, Tom?" Frederick asked politely.

Tom stared at the Professor for a moment, contemplating what his answer should be. Frederick thought this interesting; Riddle had always been peculiar.

"I was just passing by your office when I saw the _Muggle_ walking about the castle unwatched. Sir, isn't that man suspected of treacherous activity? It seems quite odd that he should be allowed out of his room," Riddle replied.

Frederick could hear an underlying tremor of anger and hatred. He knew that Riddle wanted to say more on the matter, but that Tom was also aware of how fluid the situation was where Jean Fulver was concerned.

"Yes, it seems our guest has been cleared of all charges, but how you knew anything of the matter is of great interest to me. Tell me, Tom, who told you about Jean Fulver?"

"I saw them haul the man away after dinner last night. It really doesn't take much to put together what was happening Professor. Why a dangerous Muggle should be allowed to stay in the castle is puzzling. Should I be afraid?" asked Riddle.

Tom's eyes lit up when he asked the last question, as if he wasn't really afraid of the Frenchman at all. Frederick saw some another emotion there, a dark fascination, as if Tom relished the idea of facing Fulver rather than fearing him.

"Professor Albus Dumbledore has vouched for the man and thus we can be assured that he is not dangerous."

'Yes, but what do you say? Tell the truth!" The last words trembled off of Riddle's lips as he spoke them.

Frederick's face flushed by the boy's demanding question; he was self conscious that Tom had seen right through his guise. Riddle had known that Frederick had not agreed with the decision of letting Jean Fulver out of the confinement of his room. It was yet another thing that Frederick was frustrated with Albus about. How could his cousin, of all people, trust a Muggle after what Muggles had done to Ariana, his own sister?

Frederick felt his blood boil inside him as the old wound he had carried with him for so long was brought to light. He, not Albus, had been with Aberforth when Ariana's broken body had been found in the clearing not too far from where the Dumbledores had lived at the time. Frederick had never been able to forget how her limbs had been so lifeless and her breathes had been jagged and painful. He hadn't been able to forget the dimming light in her eyes and the copious amount of blood that covered her tiny body. To Frederick, the true Ariana had died that day. The body that lived was never the sweet and carefree child he had known from his childhood.

"Professor, you haven't answered my question."

Riddle's harsh words snagged Frederick's mind and yanked him back to reality. His heart throbbed as the memory he had tried so hard to bury replayed over and over again in his thoughts.

"I say that Albus' judgment can be trusted," Frederick finally responded.

Tom grimaced as if he had expected Frederick to say something very different. It was clear that Riddle did not have a high opinion of Albus' judgment.

"Was there anything else that you needed?" Frederick asked.

"There is one thing. I was thinking of getting ahead on my Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons and was wondering if I may, for the time being, have some private lessons. I'm sure there are many dark spells that you know and I should really like to learn…a defense against them," Tom replied.

Frederick had heard the hesitation in Tom's voice near the end, and he had a feeling that Tom wanted more than to just learn how to defend himself against dark spells.

"Tom, it's the summer. Relax and enjoy it. There will be plenty of time next year for learning those things."

Anger paled Tom's face, but it was soon replaced by a wide grin and overlarge pleading eyes.

"Oh, but Professor, I so want to learn everything there is to know. One day I want to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher just like you!"

Frederick sighed. He could tell he was not going to get rid of Tom that easily.

"Well, Tom, I will consider private lessons, but not right now. With everything in an uproar, there is not much time for private lessons, but I'm sure we can work something out, until, of course, you go home to the orphanage," Frederick answered.

Anger flashed over Tom's features again, twisting his handsome face into something grotesque, but only for a moment. Before Tom could answer, Albus walked up to the door. His eyes narrowed when he saw the fourteen year old boy standing at Frederick's door. _Surely Albus doesn't suspect that a fourteen year old could be the traitor_, thought Frederick, but his cousin was trusting no one at the moment, no one except Johnny Wolfbane and the damnable Jean Fulver. How Albus could be so blind to how dangerous the Muggle was was beyond Frederick's understanding. To Frederick, the Muggle world was a nest of vipers waiting to attack the wizarding world.

Riddle turned to Albus, managing to cover up his anger and smiled at the Transfiguration teacher.

"Tom, what are you doing here?" Albus asked.

"Oh, I was just asking Professor Dumbledore if I can have some private lessons on Defensive spells. I want to learn everything I can," Riddle replied sweetly.

Albus scrutinized the boy for a moment, but thought it not worth his while to ask anything more. He had more important things to attend to.

Riddle, guessing that his time was up, moved away from the door and, after flashing Frederick a wide grin, turned and left.

Albus waited until Riddle left the teacher's corridor, and then turned back to Frederick. A plaintive and sorry look was imbued in Albus' face as his blue eyes locked onto his cousin.

"I have come to tell you great news, but let's talk about this inside your room," Albus stated.

Frederick nodded stoutly, his irritation right on the surface, barely covered up by a thin layer of civility. When inside, Frederick showed Albus to a plush armchair that was positioned near his desk, which was near his fireplace, and then shut the door to his room. His own chair sat behind his desk. Lining his walls were long strips of shelves which held a multitude of thick, but pristinely kept books. Frederick never let dust touch their surfaces. Most of the books were written in ancient or forgotten languages that had taken Frederick ages to learn, and all were concerned about the Dark Arts. He knew his subject very well. In the far corner was his bed, which was neat and clean.

Albus took the chair that Frederick offered him and sat down with a heavy sigh. Frederick noticed, for the first time that day, how incredibly tired Albus looked. He was more than just tired; he was exhausted from worry, fear and the lack of sleep. Albus never did know when to relax or back off a matter. Frederick sat down in his own chair, his eyes never really leaving his worn out cousin. Albus' eyes were dazed and out of focus as if sleep was sucking him deep within her dark grasp as Frederick watched him.

"Albus, you said that you had exciting news. Have there been new developments?" Frederick finally asked.

Albus shook in his chair. Frederick had been right; he had been nodding off.

"Yes, very exciting, but not even Headmaster Dippet knows the news. I have only told a select few, people I trust the most, not that I don't trust the Headmaster, but I did promise to tell you first if there were any developments and here I am with the biggest development of all," Albus answered.

Frederick leaned forward, greatly intrigued by this answer. His mind wondered how it was that Albus had figured out how to detach the blueprints without setting off the Krum family spell or killing Krum. He waited, his anticipation quickly covering his earlier irritation.

"You figured out how to detach the spell from Krum? How? After all the work we did together on it, how did you manage it?" Frederick asked; his curiosity was piqued.

Albus looked at Frederick, for a moment, confused, but then a realization slid across his face.

"Oh, I never did figure out a way to detach the plans from Sergei. Whatever Vladimir Krum did, it was thorough. I don't even think there is a way to detach the plans from Sergei. Unfortunately for Sergei, those blueprints will be with him until the day he dies. I do wonder if he will ever be able to die a natural death because either way he can't die near his family, natural or not, or else the plans will be set off and his family will be killed with him."

"So if you didn't figure out how to detach the plans, what is the great news that you bring?" Frederick asked, now really curious as to what Albus was talking about.

A grin slowly edged onto Albus Dumbledore's face, and the familiar twinkle returned to his eye. This was the Albus that Frederick was used to seeing.

"I said it was impossible to detach the plans, but I have found another way. If Sergei were ever to be captured, and let's hope that never happens, and the enemy knows he carries the plans inside him; if they tortured him to show them the blueprints, all that would come out would be complete gibberish. I have created a complex spell that scrambles and disguises the blueprints with made up words and a few Muggle children's drawings of shooting stars and Teddy bears. Not even Sergei could decipher through the gibberish even if he wanted to."

Frederick felt his jaw drop open. In the entire time he had been working on detaching the plans, he had never considered the possibility of disguising them. He had to admit that his cousin was a genius.

"Is there a way to decipher the gibberish?" Frederick asked.

Albus studied his cousin for a moment, and Frederick knew he was being evaluated as to if he was the traitor. Frederick brushed the moment aside as Albus spoke again. This was more important that hurt feelings.

"At the moment there is a way, but I am still working out the details. I will get back to you when those kinks have been worked out, but the real problem is that we do have a traitor amongst us and I feel Sergei is no longer safe at Hogwarts. The only thing Sergei can do is either run to where Grindelwald's agents can't reach him or Grindelwald must be killed or imprisoned. I have talked to Johnny Wolfbane and he has offered to take Sergei back to America with him."

"There is one other option that you must consider, even if it is distasteful. If Sergei were to be killed, the plans would be destroyed and Grindelwald will never get them. It will be done for the greater good," Frederick replied.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had not expected the reaction that he got from Albus after he said those words. Dumbledore leapt up from his chair as if he had been stung by a scorpion, his eyes ablaze and his face pale. His body was rigid in rage. Frederick felt his heart jolt, pattering wildly in his chest. He pulled away from his cousin, suddenly very afraid.

"That is NOT an option we will ever consider. Sergei has every right to live to a ripe old age. He has the right to see his children grow and his grandchildren born. Grindelwald will not destroy another family!"

Frederick stood slowly, trying to calm his cousin down. Albus watched him like a hawk.

"Albus, I never said that it was an option that we should really consider, but what would Sergei want us to do? If Grindelwald were to ever capture Krum and figure out how to decipher the plans, then we must consider it as a possibility. As you say, there is hope that that will never happen, especially if Sergei is going to be moved." Frederick's calm words were slowly soothing Albus, and soon Dumbledore was back to his weary and gentle state.

"I'm sorry Frederick for reacting as I did. I haven't had a lot of sleep lately, not with a traitor amongst us. I can feel him, Frederick. This person is close, closer than I like. This person seems to be one step ahead of us every time."

Frederick's face became stony and his eyes worried.

"Albus, I have been meaning to tell you that I have been noticing some strange behavior from Professor Vikious. Have you noticed it lately?"

"No. What has he been doing that is strange?" Albus asked, his eyes sharp like glass.

"Well lately, I have seen Professor Vikious up on the Astronomy Tower roof a lot. He's doing something up there, an assortment spells as far as I can tell. I have tried to go up there and figure out what it is he is doing, but he keeps putting a blocking spell over the door to the roof. You may need to look into it, since he won't let me get close. I'm not sure why he has such a dislike for me, but I just thought you should know."

Albus nodded sternly.

"I will look into it. Thank you Frederick," Albus stated.

Dumbledore shook Frederick's hand, then strode over to the door and let himself out. Frederick watched him go before he sat down at his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. He began to write. There was a lot he still had to do, but so little time to do it in.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Thank you for reading my story and I am so sorry it took so long to update it. Several things have happened like my computer crashing and writer's block that have made it a hard chapter to write. I really do appreciate all those who continue to read this story and hope to have the updates faster! Thanks and as always feedback is always appreciated!

CHAPTER 23: PREPARATIONS AND ULTIMATUMS

Jean Fulver lengthened his strides as he marched down the hall, barely looking at the various teachers whom he passed. He knew they saw him as a threat, knew their nervous whispers echoed that fear. He had had to face whispers and disparaging looks all his life and was not bothered by them.

Besides he had places to go and questions that had better be answered. His nerves were stretched into thin, spindly wires that were ready to snap at the least provocation. In his anger, he barely registered where it was he was going and soon found himself lost. It had been a few days since he had been released from house arrest and he still felt the need to walk about in order to collect up all his thoughts. He had passed many people in his wanderings throughout the castle, one of which had been that boy Tom Riddle. Tom still sent shivers down his spine. Jean knew that there was something seriously wrong with him. He had seen the boy at least twice a day. He was beginning to wonder if the disturbing child was following him.

As he thought about Tom he realized that he was lost as usual, and he didn't want to wander long because he wanted to get back to his room. He was sure that that was where he was going to find Sergei Krum and Johnny Wolfbane. Wolfbane owed him an explanation.

So Jean tried to retrace his steps back. He wandered another ten minutes, angry that he had gotten lost after having a few days to get to know his way. Finally, Jean stowed away his pride and asked the very next person he saw, which happened to be a tall, thin teacher wearing overlarge glasses. He had seen her pass his room many times before and she had always been nice to him. She gave him quick directions and in about ten minutes he found his way back to the teacher's corridor.

As he walked up to his room, he saw Sergei Krum and Johnny Wolfbane in the midst of a serious conversation. He hadn't seen either of them for awhile except for an occasional glimpse. Now as he moved closer to them, Jean could tell that Sergei was angry, his face covered in rage and Johnny looked worried. Jean cleared his throat, which quickly ended their hushed conversation. He had an idea what the topic had been about.

Sergei turned and faced Jean with a wide smile.

"Jean, my friend, it's so good to see you out and about. I knew they had the wrong man; knew that you would never have consorted with the enemy!"

Jean was touched by Sergei's vote of confidence, seeing the man as his first true friend. A true friend stood by your side when times got tough, and sadly, Fulver had not had a friend do that for him, not even Marius.

Johnny, on the other hand, looked on Jean with a look that was a mixture of mild suspicion and a large amount of humility. He said nothing to Jean as Fulver walked up and this incensed Fulver. He had at least expected some sort of apology, but knew that Wolfbane wasn't the apologetic type of person. So Jean decided to push the matter forward himself.

"Wolfbane, can you tell me why I was put under house arrest?" Jean snapped.

Sergei gasped at Fulver's audacity and a glimmer of anger broiled in Wolfbane's eyes.

"We had evidence at the time that pointed to you being the traitor," Johnny said, equally blunt.

Jean scowled. He did have to admit he begrudgingly liked Wolfbane's honesty. Wolfbane stared Jean down, as Sergei watched the two men apprehensively.

"What evidence are you talking about, Wolfbane?" Jean snapped.

"It has come to our attention that you got a letter from someone on the outside. Now, how would a letter addressed to a Muggle make it to Hogwarts? Who knows you're here?" Wolfbane responded.

Jean was shocked to hear that Wolfbane and probably Dumbledore knew about the letter. He began to pace and realized that Wolfbane was looking at him as if the pacing was an admittance of guilt. Fulver couldn't look at Sergei without seeing the hurt, doubt and shock on his friend's face. Fulver knew that Sergei had not had a lot of people to trust in his life and that this was probably a severe blow to their friendship.

"The letter…it's complicated, Wolfbane!" Fulver snapped. He suddenly wished he hadn't snapped because the American was even more certain of his conviction.

"Then explain it then and be done with it Fulver," Sergei stated.

A hush fell between the three men. Fulver and Wolfbane both turned to Sergei with surprise etched into their faces. Neither of them had expected to hear that from Krum and neither had expected to see the look of frank determination in his eyes. Sergei wanted the truth and would not have anything else.

"I will explain everything, just not right here. The hall isn't the best place to discuss such things," Fulver finally responded.

"Then why don't you accompany myself and Mr. Wolfbane to see Dumbledore. That was where we were heading in the first place!"

Sergei's words were cold and Fulver was hurt by them. He knew that the moment the letter had been mentioned that his friend would not understand. Jean watched as Sergei marched down the hall, making his way towards Dumbledore's room, which was the room at the very end.

Jean sighed and followed, with Wolfbane close at his side, watching his every move.

When they reached Dumbledore's room, the door opened before they could knock. Dumbledore came bustling out and ran right into Wolfbane, who grunted in disapproval. Albus was a mess, his robes wrinkled and stained, and his auburn hair streaked with gray and awry. Exhaustion riddled his face, but when he saw Fulver, Krum and Wolfbane, a smile replaced his anxiety.

"Mr. Krum, there is a lot we must do. Has Wolfbane told you all the particulars of your traveling arrangements?"

Sergei opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Jean.

"Whoa, what travel arrangements? Sergei is leaving?" Fulver asked. He noticed that Sergei stared ahead at the wall and wouldn't look at Fulver. He had to admit that it stung that his new friend had not told him he was leaving, but then he remembered why. Jean had not spoken or seen anyone for awhile.

"Ah, Fulver. It's so good to see you well. I'm so sorry that you were put under house arrest, but with the evidence against you we couldn't take the chance. What happened a few nights back in Hogsmeade cleared both you and Wolfbane of suspicion."

Fulver was surprised to hear that Wolfbane had been under suspicion as well and his anger abated a bit. He looked at Wolfbane to see how the American was handling the news that he had been suspected as well. To Jean's disappointment, Wolfbane looked as he normally did, stern and stoic.

"Let's get inside. There is much to discuss and some final preparations to be made," Albus said and with that he stepped back into his room. Sergei marched in, still not looking at Fulver. Jean followed suit and Wolfbane was not far behind.

The room was filled wall to wall with books and shelves of odd trinkets and gadgets. Here and there stacks of papers and books teetered precariously. Stripes of lazy, afternoon sunlight streamed through a tiny window, which was framed oddly with curtains that had baby ducks on them.

After the door had been shut, Jean watched as Sergei took a seat in a chair near the fireplace, his gaze fixed on the empty grate. Wolfbane stood guard by the door and Albus fluttered about the room, gathering odd bits of paper and other strange objects from the floor. He seemed to be doing a spot of cleaning. Jean didn't know what else to do, so he took a seat in the chair next to Sergei.

When he sat down, Sergei turned his stony gaze onto him, his eyes keen and analytical.

"Sergei, are you ready to leave by tomorrow?" Albus asked. "Do you have all your things, well what little you have, packed?"

Krum answered without lifting his eyes from Fulver. "Yes, everything is ready, but what I really want to know about is this letter business of Fulver's!"

Krum's words seemed to suck the warmth out of the room and all eyes landed on Fulver. Jean's heart jumped to his throat, but when he thought back to the letter, he still wasn't sure why such a fuss was being made over it.

"Yes, that is one thing we must clear up before you go," Albus replied. He then turned his attention to Jean. "Jean, please explain this letter business once and for all. We know you received a letter from an outside source. Someone knows you're here and we need to know how such information got out and how much this person knows."

Jean thought back to the letter and realized he still had it with him; he had never taken it out of his pocket. Why he had never taken it out was beyond him, but now it proved useful. He pulled it out of his pocket, much to the consternation of the others. To them, this could be a potentially dangerous object. He opened it in front of them and showed everyone the two lines scrawled over its surface. Albus and Wolfbane came forward and read the letter, then looked at Fulver with confusion on their face.

"This letter, I believe, came from my friend Marius, since it is his handwriting. Since I saw him die, I know this to be impossible and I believe someone is impersonating him. How they know who I am and where to find me and how they got this letter to me, are not answers I have. I had planned on coming to tell all of you about it, but that was before the vision and the arrest. Then I completely forgot about it until it was mentioned again."

Everyone remained quiet for a moment, taking in what it was Fulver said.

"Are you absolutely sure Marius is dead?" Wolfbane asked.

"He died in my arms. I am absolutely…" Jean stopped. He couldn't finish what he wanted to say because the truth was, he wasn't sure if Marius was truly dead. He remembered Marius's death; his friend had tried to tell him something, but died before he could. Then he remembered the Quidditch match and how he had thought he had seen Marius amongst the crowd.

"Judging by your hesitation, I'm guessing you're not absolutely sure about his death," Albus stated. "Tell me, why are you questioning his death if you said he died in your arms?"

"I found the letter in my room on the evening after the Quidditch match. Just moments before at the game, I could have sworn that I saw Marius sitting amongst the crowd in the tower opposite the field from me. I thought it had been my imagination, but then I got the letter, the very one I just showed you. Is it…is it possible with magic that he may still be alive?" Jean asked.

Albus and Johnny shared a look, and this worried Jean.

"There are many ways your friend could have faked his death, especially if magic is involved. The question is, why he would fake his death? If magic is involved, then we may have a serious problem because it means that Grindelwald is now resorting to using Muggles in his quest for the plans. I need to be absolutely sure that you haven't had any other contact with this Marius. Right now, he is not your friend. He is with the enemy. Have you had any other contact with him?" Albus's gaze penetrated straight through the Muggle and Fulver suddenly understood the real power Albus held. He was a man best not to be toyed with.

"No, I have not had any other contact with Marius! If he has joined the enemy, then we are no longer friends. It's strange, I started my journey out to get revenge on Sergei, but now I consider him to be a true friend and I would do anything to protect a friend like that," Jean stoutly replied.

Even though he had said it aloud to everyone, he had directed his comment towards Sergei. He wanted to let his friend know that he had not betrayed him. Sergei's cold exterior seem to melt away; it seems he believed Fulver.

Wolfbane and Albus studied Jean for a moment, weighing out his possible guilt and innocence. Albus was the first to break the silence.

"I believe you, Jean. I know what it is like to be judged on unsubstantial evidence and rumor. Now, do you have any idea why Marius would be tangled up in this? I know Grindelwald and I know that he likes to dangle what one wants the most in front of their face to get them to work for him. He hardly ever actually comes through on his promises. Think, Fulver. Was there anything you could remember that Marius mentioned that was odd?"

Jean thought back to the last time he had seen and spoken with Marius. Going back over his memories he realized that Marius had been acting odd, more reckless than normal. He also remembered that Marius had been obsessed with something, some "great treasure" he had mentioned he had found in his letters to Jean.

The lightening bolt hit.

It must have been so easy for Grindelwald to find something that Marius would want and obsess over. Marius had been given everything he had ever wanted and this had given him the idea that nothing was out of his grasp. He was hardly ever dissuaded from something once that object had been dangled in front of his eye.

"There was something. Marius mentioned once a "great treasure" he had found, something he would share with me. He never told me what that treasure had been. I know Marius and I know that when he wants something he will do anything to get it. I don't know if this makes sense to you, because it never did to me, but now you know everything I do," Jean stated.

Dumbledore's eyes were narrowed in concentration.

"Yes, I may have an idea what it was Grindelwald is holding over your friend. The patterns seem to fit for both men and their behavior. It seems…"

Albus Dumbledore never got to finish his sentence because right at that moment a loud voice reverberated throughout the castle, a voice amplified ten times its normal strength. It was harsh and heavily accented and said:

"THIS MESSAGE IS FOR ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, A PROFESSOR AT THE HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY. LORD GRINDELWALD WANTS WHAT IS HIS BACK!"

Albus sat stunned in his chair. No one could move, stunned by the voice and its message. The words still hung in the very air around them like hot steam. Wolfbane turned to Albus and with a look they both stood and strode over to the door. Sergei remained in his chair, his terror covering the whole of his face. Jean hated to see a friend so distressed, but didn't really know what to say to alleviate that stress. Instead, he stayed by Sergei's side.

Meanwhile, Albus and Johnny walked out into the teacher's corridor to find that it was filled with teachers who had heard the exact same thing. Most were in a state of panic and every one turned and looked at Albus. It had been the Transfiguration teacher who had brought all this down on them. Albus, used to public scrutiny, ignored all the harsh stares and whispers. Instead, he waited for what he knew would surely come and within a few minutes it did.

"LORD GRINDELWALD WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A TRADE," the voice continued. "AT THIS VERY MOMENT, I, MARABELLA KRUM, HAVE UNDER MY CONTROL WITH SOME HELP FROM MY PARTNERS A LITTLE PUB NAMED THE LEAKY BUCKET IN LONDON, WHICH IS OWNED BY A MUGGLE NAMED TOM!"

Every breath caught in every throat. Everyone knew of Tom and his pub because everyone had known his sweet son. Albus flinched, his heart shattering when he heard this news. Wolfbane, on the other hand, was panic stricken. He paced up and down, an odd growl rolling out of his throat. He looked like a caged animal in a Muggle zoo.

"IF BY THE TIME THE SUN SETS THE OBJECT LORD GIRNDELWALD SEEKS IS NOT BROUGHT TO THE LEAKY BUCKET, I WILL START KILLING PEOPLE AND I WILL START WITH THE BARTENDER'S SON!"

Albus felt his stomach drop out from him. He looked at Wolfbane and knew that if something wasn't done, Wolfbane's vision would come to pass. Something must be done. He saw Sergei and Fulver edging out the door, looking on the mass of teachers who looked shell shocked. Every person in the hall waited for more of the message, the intensity building in the corridor. Soon eyes were glancing over at Sergei and Krum's face became paler by the moment.

After a few moments had passed and no more of the amplified voice was heard, a portion of the tension broke. People began to discuss how the voice had gotten in. Albus, as well as many others, were sure that this Marabella could not have made it onto the school grounds and must have sent the message from just outside the periphery. Frantic words and rumors flew as no one knew what to make of this new development.

Headmaster Armando Dippet strode down the hall towards Dumbledore. His stare was hard and his mouth set in a grim, thin line. He stopped next to Albus and teachers formed a circle around them. When he spoke, he spoke to everyone.

"It is true that we have something that Grindelwald wants, but it is also true that he can never get it or else the world we know will be destroyed. These are trying times, but we will pull through it if we work together. We will not be bullied by our enemies. We will not cave into intimidation. We will fight. I don't demand that all of you come with me and Albus to the Leaky Bucket, but this is a test of what we are made of. Do we allow an aggressor like Grindelwald threaten innocent people? Do we give in to his demands? I think not. Now is the time to stand up for what is right in the world. Does anybody want to come and face this Marabella?"

A cheer rose up amongst the teachers and a wave of volunteers accepted Dippet's plea, including Professor Frederick. The majority of the staff, along with the Headmaster would be going to the Leaky Bucket. The ones who had not volunteered to go decided to stay behind and guard the castle. Homer Borden led that group.

Albus didn't feel comfortable leaving Sergei Krum under the protection of Mr. Borden. He pulled his cousin aside and made a personal request that Frederick stay behind and protect Krum. Though Frederick protested at first, he eventually agreed to Albus's plan.

Once the groups were established, plans were being formed on how they should take on the hostile force in the Leaky Bucket. As the conversation and people drifted from the corridor to the staff room, no one seemed to notice that one teacher had not been present. One teacher had not chosen a side and was not making plans with the others.

Professor Vikious was no where to be found.


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24 A LETTER AND A TRAITOR

The blazing sun scorched the back of Professor Vikious' neck as he performed the last of his spells. It had been a hard few days after the Hogsmeade attack, but he was glad that he was finally finished. He had done what he had come up to the Astronomy Tower roof to do.

Vikious stood up from the crouch he had been in and pocketed his wand. He wiped his sweat from his slick forehead. As he did so, a soft summer breeze ran over him, instantly cooling his warm body.

Vikious closed his eyes and let the wind caress his face. He felt his life force surge inside him. He opened his eyes and let them fall across the emerald hills below that surrounded the castle. Green lands and blue waters stretched ahead of him, turned golden by the fading afternoon light. He looked up into the perfect blue sky and knew it was a good day to be alive. He felt his heart beat all the more stronger in his chest.

Vikious looked about the rooftop and remembered all the spells he had placed on the Astronomy Tower roof. This was now the safest place in the school to be. Vikious didn't have full knowledge of all the defensive spells out there, but he knew enough. With this traitor amongst them and the attack on Hogsmeade, he had felt an urgent need to make some place that was safe. Professor Vikious knew that in some time in the near future this place may become useful.

Vikious turned and started to head towards the door of the Astronomy Tower. His heart and conscience felt lighter. He had done all he could do to fight the impending darkness he felt was looming on the horizon. Despite this gloom that was hovering over them all, he felt there was hope. Albus Dumbledore was on their side and nothing bad could happen if he was here. Vikious' steps grew lighter. He almost smiled, which was something he was not used to doing.

"THIS MESSAGE IS FOR ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, A PROFESSOR AT THE HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY. LORD GRINDELWALD WANTS WHAT IS HIS BACK!"

Vikious stopped, frozen in his tracks by the harsh words that rang around him. The air vibrated as the words seemed to hang on the edge of the wind, dispersing themselves in every direction. He quickly looked about him. The voice had been amplified to be heard everywhere. Vikious knew that the doom he had been sensing was closing in fast. His heart turned to ice, a cold and hard place inside him, making it hard to breathe. He felt his breath catch in his chest.

"LORD GRINDELWALD WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A TRADE," the voice continued. "AT THIS VERY MOMENT, I, MARABELLA KRUM, HAVE UNDER MY CONTROL, WITH SOME HELP FROM MY PARTNERS, A LITTLE PUB NAMED THE LEAKY BUCKET IN LONDON, WHICH IS OWNED BY A MUGGLE NAMED TOM. IF BY THE TIME THE SUN SETS THE OBJECT LORD GRINDELWALD SEEKS IS NOT BROUGHT TO THE LEAKY BUCKET, I WILL START KILLING PEOPLE AND I WILL START WITH THE BARTENDER'S SON!"

Vikious exhaled, but not in relief. He felt his horror rising in him. He had never been too keen with the bartender or his son, but he had never wanted harm to come to them either. He couldn't allow this to happen. Something inside him urged him forward. He felt his anger rising because he knew this was the work of the traitor and he was almost certain he knew who it was. He was not going to allow this to continue any longer. Someone must do something. Someone must confront the traitor.

Vikious pulled out his wand and charged the door of the Astronomy Tower. He had a feeling that he was going to face chaos below, but that didn't deter him. That voice caused him to seethe inside. Never before had he ever been this reckless or bold. He was a Slytherin. Reckless was not apart of their vocabulary, but he had also felt something snap inside. He hated that no one had listened to him when he spoke out about Frederick. It was Frederick that he knew was the traitor.

He may not of had evidence before, but he did now. He had recently saw Frederick post a letter, but what Frederick hadn't known was that the owl he used had had a tracking charm placed on it by Vikious. Vikious had known that Frederick liked to use that owl to send out his letters and he was determined to get proof of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's guilt.

Today had been the day that Vikious had learned of where the owl had gone off to, but he had only been able to put together all of his evidence when Marabella had mentioned that she had gained control of the Leaky Bucket. That was where the owl had come back from and for Vikious this sealed Frederick's guilt in his mind.

Vikious felt his pride bloom in him when he thought of how people would treat him when it was discovered that he had found and brought to light the traitor and his guilt. No longer would people praise Frederick over him. No longer would Vikious be ignored. Vikious strode down the stairs, his steps growing lighter by the moment. He planned on confronting Frederick and forcing a confession out of him. If he could publicly humiliate him, so much the better, but first there was one thing he must do.

He had to insure that the knowledge he had, made it to Albus Dumbledore in case something should happened to him that he hadn't anticipated. Out of thin air, Vikious conjured up a quill and a piece of parchment. He placed a self-writing charm on the quill and dictated to it what to write. He clearly laid out his evidence and the spell he had used on the owl. He also made it known that the Astronomy Tower was now the safest place for people to be, in case there was ever a need or the castle was compromised, which could easily be done with Frederick as the traitor. It would be absurdly easy for Frederick to create a hole in the protection around the castle to let the enemy in considering that he had put up all the extra defensive spells around the castle since the rise of Grindelwald had made the wizarding community worried.

Vikious continued down the stairs and was striding towards the Great Hall. So far he had seen no one and this had been very odd to him. He had expected panic. The Potions Master took this as a good omen for him because it allowed him to finish his letter in peace.

Once the letter was done, he sealed it and placed a charm on it so that only Albus could open it himself. The Transfiguration teacher was the only one Vikious trusted with this information and he was not going to take any chances.

As he neared the Great Hall, he finally spotted another person, but when he got closer, he felt his irritation rise. Borden the caretaker came prancing towards him, his wand held high in the air. Vikious knew that Borden could do more harm than good with the wand through his own stupidity. Vikious swallowed back his growing annoyance with the pompous little man, who approached Vikious with a look importance.

"Well, I see you have decided to join me and protect the castle while the others have gone to the Leaky Bucket. A wise choice, I must say so myself. I need you to help guard the front door. With so few people here to guard everything and Professor Frederick being used to guard Mr. Krum and…"

Vikious choked on the very air that come into his mouth. He felt his hand tightened on the letter in his hand and his knuckles turned white.

"What did you say?" Vikious stammered.

"Well, I said we need more guards at the front door…" Borden began again.

"No, about Frederick!" Vikious snapped, his irritation no longer hidden away.

"Now, now Professor. I am in charge of protecting the castle and I will not be spoken to in that tone…"

Borden's voice trailed off as he saw a look of murderous anger bleach the face of the Potions Master, whose wand was pointed threateningly at the caretaker's chest.

"I said that Frederick was guarding Mr. Krum and the Muggle, Fulver," Borden replied as he cowered under Vikious' wand.

"Where?!" Vikious spat out.

"Mr. Krum and Mr. Fulver were on their way back to their rooms where Professor Frederick is waiting for them," Borden replied shakily.

Vikious quickly lowered his wand and shoved his sealed letter into Borden's face.

"I need you to keep this letter with you and if anything should happen to me, give it to Albus Dumbledore and only Albus Dumbledore."

"But my job is to protect the…"

"You're job is to be the caretaker," Vikious finished off. "And the caretaker delivers letters when an owl can not. Do your real job and take the letter!"

Borden glared at the letter and then snatched it from Vikious' hand. He mumbled something and then stumbled away from Vikious. The Potion's master did not wait to see if the caretaker turned around or not. He did not wait for any sort of approval. He had to get to Krum and Fulver before they got to their rooms.

Vikious began to run.

***********

Sergei Krum was terrified, that much Jean Fulver could tell. Ever since they had heard that terrible message, his friend kept looking behind him as if he expected to see a horde of monsters or worse. Fulver knew that Sergei had every right to be afraid. He was helpless against magic and Fulver, himself, could only do so much against a magical attack.

Jean held his gun lowered at his side, his gun hand aching from the firm grip he had on the weapon. The moment he had heard those fateful words from Marabella Krum, Fulver had not let go of his gun. He didn't know what was faster, a bullet or a spell, but it was better to have some protection than none at all. He stalked by Sergei's side, staying low to the ground and silent.

Sergei had gone mute, his face pale and his hands visibly shaking. Fulver had tried to get his friend to speak, but Sergei had not been able to utter a cohesive word. Albus had sent Fulver and Sergei back to their rooms where they were to stay under the protection of Frederick. This should have calmed Krum, but it hadn't and it was the same for Fulver. He guess he and Krum would have to trust Dumbledore's judgment, for what else could they do?

Albus Dumbledore, Johnny Wolfbane and many others were already on their way to the Leaky Bucket. Fulver hoped they would reach the tavern before the sun set. He couldn't bear the thought of Tom Jr. being killed. That also seemed to be the one thing that Sergei couldn't bear either. Any word that Jean did get from Sergei was about the boy. He seemed to be wrapped up in his world of doubt and guilt for something that was not his fault. Fulver knew that because Sergei was a father, he would never be able to forgive himself if Tom Jr. was ever hurt.

Jean felt a surge of emotions as he thought of Tom Jr., but instead of guilt or fear, he felt rage. He wanted more than anything to join the others and go to the Leaky Bucket. He was not used to walking away from a fight, especially one that was so crucial, but he also knew that Sergei was the most important person to protect right now. Jean couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right about this situation. He had a feeling that more danger and darkness was coming this night. As evening drew closer and closer, Fulver felt as if a doom was speeding towards them, a bullet aimed right at their heads and hearts.

Jean Fulver sped up and he noticed that Sergei did the same. Their footsteps rung out like gunshots in the still and silent corridors. It was eerie walking down them without a sign of life. Fulver felt his muscles tighten in stress, but he showed none of it on his face. Though there was no one around them, Fulver still scanned everything with his eyes, looking for danger. Sergei's heavy breaths could be heard by his side and he knew that the fear must be eating Sergei up inside.

Suddenly Jean caught something, but it wasn't with his eyes. It was with his ears. He heard a rapid spatter of footsteps as someone ran in their direction. Jean stopped Sergei and pushed him against the nearby wall and behind a suit of armor. As the footsteps got closer, Jean positioned himself in front of Sergei and raised his gun. This could be just a witch or wizard heading to their defensive spot, but then why would they be running. Jean lowered himself to the ground.

"What…what is it, Jean?" Sergei stammered.

"Someone is coming," Jean said coolly. He tightened his crouch up, ready to spring. His finger inched towards the trigger of his gun. The footsteps came closer. Whoever it was, was heading in this direction. Jean felt his heart beat steady itself and his ears strained to hear everything. The person coming towards them was close now and he knew that any second he would be seeing them. Jean raised his gun. He was still and ready. He counted the steps as they pattered closer and closer.

Professor Vikious came careening around the corner and Jean jolted in shock, but he wasn't the only one. Vikious skidded to a halt when he saw Fulver and his gun. Vikious' eyes narrowed in anger and distrust. He also directed the aim of his wand at Fuvler.

"What are you going with that thing, Fulver? Are you going to use that weapon on me?" Vikious snapped.

"Are you going to use your wand on me?" Fulver answered back.

"Depends…"

"On what?" Jean spat out.

"On whether or not your working with the traitor or not," Vikious answered.

"For the thousandth time, I'm not. Are you?"

"No!" Vikious shouted. "I would never work with that vile person."

Jean remained silent for a moment. He didn't drop his gun, but neither did Vikious drop his wand.

"Where's Sergei Krum?" Vikious asked.

"That's none of your…" Jean started.

"I'm right here," Sergei answered as smoothly as he could. He stepped forward, out from behind the suit of armor. Jean scrambled to get in front of Sergei, but by the time he did, he saw that Vikious had lowered his wand. Jean lowered his gun, but his finger remained on the trigger. He planned on giving Sergei a stern talk about safety precautions.

"Why were you running?" Jean asked.

Vikious stepped closer. "I had to find Sergei Krum before he reached his room. I don't know what it is he has or why he is so important to Professor Dumbledore and Grindelwald, but I do know that he is in danger."

"We know. We heard the message earlier from his cousin…"

"No, there is a threat much closer to him than his cousin. There is a traitor here. You are not safe here. The traitor is…"

Suddenly, a terrified and painful scream sounded below them and then was just as suddenly cut off. Both Vikious and Jean looked down the hall they both had come and then back at each other. A cacophony of noise sliced the air as screams and shouts flowed up to them.

"You have to get to the Astronomy Tower roof. It is the safest place in the school right now. I placed defensive spells around it. Get up there and stay there until either I come and get you or Albus Dumbledore. Trust no one else!"

"How do we get there?" Sergei asked.

Vikious turned to a nearby portrait, which was of a nymph by a river.

"Egeria, show them the way to the Astronomy Tower roof. Be quick. They have to get there safely," Vikious stated.

Jean watched in awe as they tiny nymph nodded in compliance and then beckoned them to follow her. Jean looked at Vikious and then grabbed Sergei's arm and pulled him after the Nymph, who began to run ahead of them.

Sergei resisted for a moment as he looked back at the Potions Master. Vikious had already headed in the direction towards their room.

"Where are you going?" Sergei asked.

Vikious turned around and for a moment the ghost of fear showed in his eyes.

"I'm going to deal with the traitor. Get to the roof!" he shouted.

Sergei nodded and then followed Jean after the nymph. Soon the corridor was empty.

************

Homer Borden cursed silently under his breathe as he stomped down the stairs away from Vikious. The letter that had been unceremoniously shoved in his face was clenched tightly in his hand. He had no idea what could be so important that Vikious had to act like that, but he knew better than to ignore the Potions Masters demands when he made them.

As Borden headed to his office, he scrolled through a long list of people he wanted to talk to and places that still needed to be guarded. He was determined to do a good job. He kept picturing the praise he would receive from Frederick when all this was over and the castle stayed safe under his protection. Borden also began to think of all the tasks he would make Vikious do once he had dropped this letter off in his office and smiled gleefully to himself. It was at this moment that he came to a sudden halt.

The main door of Hogwarts was ajar. No one was nearby. Homer crept forward, the wand in his hand shaking violently. He heard rustling in his office as if someone was looking for something inside. Homer came to his door and noticed that it was also open. The fear he had once felt was replaced by anger. The one place he had ever felt accepted was his office. It was a second home to him.

Homer pushed open his door boldly with the hand that still held tightly to the letter. He was not going to allow this sort of intrusion to continue. As the door slowly swung open, a man he hade never seen before in his life was standing in the middle of his office. Papers littered the floor and Homer's bowl of strawberries were scattered everywhere. The man was feral in appearance, wearing rags and was covered with dark, haphazard hair. He saw the man freeze, the huge muscles in his back taut with tension.

"What are you…" Borden asked shakily.

Before Homer could say another word, the man spun around. His fierce yellow eyes fixed on Borden. He whipped his wand around and murmured a spell. The last thing Homer Borden saw was a bolt of green light shooting towards him. The last thing he heard was the sound of his high pitched scream of terror that was suddenly cut short.

Homer Borden fell dead to the ground, the letter in his hand slipping from his fingers. It slowly revolved in the air and then slid under his desk when it landed.

The feral man strode past his victim and out of the office where he joined a growing group of wizards as they streamed through the main door into the castle. The battle had begun.

**A/N:** Thank you for reading this chapter. I didn't have as much time to edit this chapter since I wanted to get it up as soon as I could. Let me know if there are any mistakes or what you thought of the chapter. Your feedback is always appreciated!


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25: WHAT RIDDLE SAW

Frederick paced impatiently in front of the door of Sergei Krum's room. The Squib and the Muggle were late and his irritation was rising in him. He had always been very particular when it came to keeping to a schedule. People who were late ranked high on his list of the most irritating of people. Still, he waited. He didn't want either of the men out of his sight for too long. For one, he would never be able to trust the Muggle, no matter what his cousin said. After what had happened to Ariana and all the horrible things he had heard happening in the Muggle war, he didn't have a very high opinion of the Muggle world at the moment. He had barely been able to control his anger over the audacity that Jean always seemed to flaunt in front of him. That Muggle didn't have the proper respect for magic as he should.

_Grindelwald would never have allowed this man to breathe, let alone walk unhindered in a place that was supposed to be for magical people only._

That last thought was engrossing to Frederick. Ever since he had met Grindelwald all those long years ago when Albus had been close to the man, his grand ideas had left an imprint on Frederick. Grindelwald and Albus had struck up a particularly close and special relationship. They had had epic ideas and theories. Though most times they preferred to ruminate over their ideas together, sometimes Frederick had been involved.

All of that changed with Ariana's death. For Albus, it had been the end of his relationship with Gellert, the pain of the betrayal too great to speak of it much afterwards.

Frederick had not renounced Grindelwald and had been secretly keeping tabs on the man's rise to power. Not once had Frederick ever blamed Gellert for his cousin's death. In his mind, Ariana had died at the hands of those Muggle boys years before. It was yet another person the Muggle world had taken with its cruelty and prejudice.

Though Frederick did not fully believe in every principle Grindelwald espoused, he did think that power should rest in the more judicious and capable hands of the wizarding community. People like Ariana and her father Percival would still be alive if the wizarding community had had more control over the Muggle world. And who better to lead the magical community out into the open and into power than the man with the master plan, Gellert Grindelwald.

_Muggles are more of a danger to themselves if left to their own devices. Look at this horrible war they are killing themselves over. If the wizarding community had been in control, the war would have never gotten to this point and now it has found its way into the very heart of the magical community; its place of education._

Frederick felt his anger flare up inside him like a sharp, bitter wind. He hated all the danger that Sergei and Jean had brought to Hogwarts. Soon they would be taken care of and Hogwarts would be back to normal again. He had made sure of that.

Frederick Dumbledore tensed as the faint patter of footsteps could be heard, steadily growing closer and closer. He felt his hand grip his wand tighter, and he steadied his breathing. As the footsteps neared, he had a disconcerting notion that he was only hearing one set of them. He had never thought that the Muggle would have left Sergei Krum's side.

But Frederick was shocked when he saw Professor Vikious round the corner at the end of the corridor. The Dark Arts teacher saw anger and glee in Vikious' eyes as well as a glimmer of panic as the Potions Master approached. He must have heard the screaming down below as Frederick had, but why he was here and not going towards the source of the scream was beyond Frederick.

Professor Vikious stopped a few feet away from Frederick and quickly raised his wand. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was equally as quick. He felt hatred emanating from the man and could say that a similar feeling broiled inside him. Ever since they had been rivals in their house, Slytherin, and later on as teachers, they had never been able to be friendly, finding civility too hard to bear. Now, that rivalry would come to an end, one way or another.

Both men squared their shoulders, their wands pointed at the others chest. Silence stilled the very air and Frederick could feel an electricity crackling in the space between them.

"I know what you've done, who you've been contact with!" Vikious spat out.

He looked triumphant, certain of a victory over the Dark Arts teacher. Frederick's face remained impassive.

"And I know all about the spells you put on the Astronomy Tower," he calmly stated.

Slowly, the statement sunk into the Potion's Master's mind and Frederick watched as the once proud look fell into shock and then terror.

"What could you possibly know? I wasn't doing anything up there that you could possibly know about!" Vikious responded, his words wavering in doubt.

That was all that Frederick needed to hear, that doubt and fear. He knew that he had the upper hand on the Potions Master. He wouldn't hesitate to act, while his opponent would most certainly falter. And the same thought seemed to have crossed Vikious' mind as his wand shook.

"I know that you have been putting defensive spells on the tower. You were attempting to make a safe zone, I presume," Frederick stated nonchalantly, which unnerved Vikious even more. Frederick knew he had the Potions Master in his claws. Now it was time to lay down the killing blow. "What you didn't know was that I undid many of the spells that you put on the Tower. I made a hole in your protection, just like I did for the castle."

And at that moment, the sounds of war rose up to them from the lower parts of Hogwarts. Screams and the sound of spells hitting armor and walls shot up to them. The din of a horrible battle could not be ignored or avoided. Vikious' mouth dropped in horror.

"But…but…why? Albus…his own cousin…" Vikious stammered.

"Sometimes my cousin doesn't know what is best for him. Sometimes he is blind to the vices and dangers of the Muggle world. He thinks Muggles can be trusted, but he's wrong. I was only doing what was best for the greater good. Could you say the same?"

Vikious' pale face shook and his answer seemed to be stuck at the back of his throat. Suddenly, a glimmer of defiance lit up his face.

"I don't believe the Muggle world can be trusted either, but this is not the way to deal with it. Helping Grindelwald will destroy us all! I won't let you do this! _Incarcerous!_" He screamed.

Chains shot out towards Frederick like gray lightening, but was easily deflected aside by a shield charm around Frederick. Vikious was stunned by this. He had forgotten how proficient Frederick was with casting spells with his mind.

"You didn't really think that would work did you?" Frederick asked calmly.

"_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!_" Vikious answered.

A flicker of deep concentration and pain stretched across Frederick's face as he slowly deflected the charm into a nearby wall with his mind. At the moment it hit the wall, a frightened yelp sounded.

"Professors!"

Both men turned their stunned eyes to the shadows nearby. Standing there, unseen and unknown until now was Tom Riddle, his black eyes large and round in his youthful face.

"Riddle!" Vikious answered, as he turned his eyes for a second to the boy, who stood near Frederick.

That tiny second was all that Frederick needed. It stretched into an eternity as he focused all his attention and power on the spell he had in his mind. He felt it surge through his body down to his wand as Vikious slowly turned his eyes back to Frederick. It was too late for the Potions Master. Before he could react, a bolt of green light shot out of Frederick's wand and hit Vikious in the chest.

The Potions Master stumbled back, a look of surprise on his face and then he crumbled to the floor like a limp doll.

A hush fell, with only the sounds of breath coming from the Dark Arts teacher and Tom. Frederick turned towards the boy, unsure what to do next. He knew he shouldn't leave any witnesses, but he also didn't have the stomach to kill an unarmed fourteen-year-old boy. What surprised Frederick the most was the look Tom had on his face. It wasn't fear or terror as Frederick had expected from a child who had just seen one of his teacher's murdered. It was fascination, the same dark glimmer he had seen earlier in the boy.

Frederick raised his wand at the imp who was disguised as a boy. Riddle's eyes remained fixed on the prone body of Professor Vikious, a strange smile shadowing his lips. He suddenly knew what danger he could be in and lifted his eyes to Frederick and his wand.

"Are you going to kill me as well?" Riddle asked innocently, the look of fascination now gone.

Unsure of the boy, unsure what to say, Frederick remained silent. He searched the inner depths of Riddle's face, looking for any sign of what he had seen earlier in the boy.

"I have a proposal to offer you, Professor," Riddle continued. "I won't say a word about what happened here. In fact, I'll even tell anyone who asked that Professor Vikious attacked you first and that you killed him in defending yourself and me from a traitor." Riddle's words hung in the air and Frederick could hardly believe what it was he was hearing. "I'll do all of this, say all of this if you teach me everything you know about the Dark Arts. Everything! There is so much knowledge out there that we are never taught at Hogwarts and I want to know it, but it's up to you. Do you want me to tell the truth of what it is I saw or a lie?"

Frederick's mouth fell open in surprise. He knew that if he didn't agree, Riddle would tell the world what it was he saw and he couldn't very well kill the boy right here and now. How would he explain his death to the other teachers? Frederick heard the sound of running feet coming towards him and he knew he had to make his decision quickly.

"Alright, Riddle. I'll teach you everything I know, but only if this information never leaves your lips!"

Riddle smiled and for once Frederick knew he was looking into the real Tom Riddle. The boy was dark, ambitious and without fear. Frederick knew he was dangerous, but maybe, just maybe he could cultivate that mind into one who feared and respected the Dark Arts as it should be.

"May I suggest, Professor, that you perform the Killing Curse on that cockroach there," and Tom pointed to the small, scurrying creature at their feet. "with Professor Vikious' wand before anybody else comes upon the scene. It helps to have evidence to back up our story," Tom suggested innocently.

Frederick had been thinking the very same idea and was unnerved that Tom had suggested it. His eyes narrowed at the boy, who looked back at him as if he had suggested as menial a task as cleaning cauldrons. Frederick then lowered his wand, strode over to Vikious' wand, which had fallen out of the dead man's hands and picked it up. He then turned it onto the cockroach, blithely unaware of its impending doom.

"Tom," Frederick asked, the wand still trained on the cockroach. "How did you know I had performed the Killing Curse? It was a non-verbal command."

"I read, Professor," Tom answered calmly.

The sound of the heavy footfalls were getting closer and closer. Frederick scowled when he heard that answer, but he also knew he had no more time to question the boy further. He would know soon enough the full extent of Tom Riddle's knowledge.

Too weary to do the Curse in his mind, Frederick responded, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

A bolt of green light shot out and the cockroach was dead where it was hit. Frederick then walked over to Vikious and placed the wand back into his hand. The sound of running feet came towards Frederick and Riddle and the Dark Arts teacher was unsure who would round the far corner: the dark wizards and werewolves he had let in or one of his fellow teachers.

Frederick was slightly relieved when he saw the large, and disheveled figure of Laird Jones, a dark wizard who was part werewolf. The man's black eyes instantly fixed on Frederick and then trailed down to Riddle. A horrific grin covered his face. The filthy, blood soaked man came loping towards Frederick.

"We've all gotten in, but there is still some resistance in the Great Hall. What are your orders, Frederick?" he asked, his eyes barely ever leaving Riddle. Tom seemed unafraid of the werewolf and had that strange look of fascination on his face as he had earlier.

"Guard the doors. My cousin and the Headmaster should be back soon. I'm sure the riff raff at the Leaky Bucket will be an easy challenge for Albus and his American friend. We need to guard the castle until the package has been secured."

"And the package?"

"Sergei Krum is going to be delivered as promise. Don't worry. I have it all taken care of. You should be out of here with him very soon!"

The werewolf nodded and then slowly turned, going back the way he came. For Frederick, everything was indeed under control.

**A/N:** Thank you for reading this story. This chapter has not gone through as much of the editing process that I normally give my chapters because I wanted to get this up as quickly as I could once it was finished. Feedback, in this case, is highly appreciated. The next chapter should be coming very soon since part of it was going to be apart of this chapter. Once again, thanks!


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **Thank you for reading this story. I wanted to note that this chapter has not gone through rigorous editing. If you find any mistakes or holes, please let me know. I would greatly appreciate it!

CHAPTER 26: WHEN THE STARS FALL

Jean Fulver silently opened the door to the Astronomy Tower roof. After a quick scan of the immediate area around them, he led Sergei Krum out onto the roof. The night was still and thick with the evening heat. Stars sparkled above, shards of their diamond cut light shining down on them. Jean felt as if a thousand eyes of the entire universe were looking down on this moment and this place and he suddenly had a dark premonition, as if a fast approaching shadow was catching up to them.

At the moment though, he had one job and one job only. He had to protect Sergei Krum. Near the door, hidden away in the shadows was an alcove. It was a blind spot to anybody who came onto the roof. Jean had sensed it was there because he knew the way the wall rounded would surely lead to such a hidden place. It was in this place that Jean motioned Sergei over to. For the roof, it was probably the most concealed spot, which wasn't saying much.

Though the roof was far from the ensuing battle below, it was still too open to attack. Jean knew they were vulnerable in this open of a place and he hoped that Vikious' word could be trusted. Fulver crouched low and began to prowl from shadow to shadow, keeping well below the crenellations along the roof's edge. As he did so, he thought of Vikious and why he had been so ready to trust the Potions Master. Never before had Vikious proven to be friendly, but when Jean had looked into his eyes, he had seen terror as well as, surprisely, courage. Vikious could have easily incapacitated Krum if he had wanted to harm him, but he didn't. It was at that moment that Jean's instincts had told him to trust Vikious and he always trusted his instincts. They had kept him alive in the dangerous world he lived in. But if Vikious was the traitor, then this place was a trap and someone would be waiting for them.

Jean was preternaturally silent, moving like a ghost. He used the natural sounds and lighting of his surroundings to mask his presence. He breathed when the wind blew and blended into the shadows thrown off the wall. His visual acuity was sharp. He saw details that most people would never have thought to look for, but even with all of this skill he was vulnerable. There was only so many places you could hide yourself in an open area like this.

Every few seconds his eyes would flit back to Sergei, making sure he was still where he had left him. Once Jean was sure that his friend was safe, he allowed his eyes to take in every detail of the rooftop. They raked the far end of the roof and the tiny nooks nearby. They scoured every shadow and alcove. Jean felt his adrenaline pumping through his body, pockets of stored up energy pounding through his legs and arms. He was ready to attack, to shoot and in this mode he was the most lethal. He looked up at the sky around them and down to the ground below. In a matter of minutes, his eyes had scanned the entirety of the rooftop. Jean made his way back to his friend.

Though he was satisfied that no one was there on the roof with them, his instincts were on full alert. These same instincts had told him he could trust Vikious, but they warned of danger in this barren place. He couldn't understand why this was. Even though he allowed Sergei to step out from the alcove, Jean stayed close to his friend's side.

The night wind blew through the crenellations on the wall, creating a hollow, despairing sound, which scraped on Fulver's nerve endings. Not one sound of the battle below could heard and for Jean, this was unnerving. Sergei, on the other hand, had relaxed a little bit.

Krum walked a little further from the alcove and looked up at the stars, a sigh escaping his lips. His eyes grew wide in wonder. The world above was a magnificent palette of possibilities for him.

Unlike Sergei, Fulver couldn't stand still and found no solace in the stars. In fact, the sky was too open, too much of a vulnerability to him. Jean prowled, restless and feeling useless. He was not used to running away from a battle. He was always the first to jump in, but now everything had changed. He had his friend to worry over and protect.

"Jean, stop pacing. Dumbledore should be back soon and we'll be safe. This battle won't last long. Whatever happened at the Leaky Bucket should be over by now. I just hope that Tom is safe with his father as he should be."

"Yeah," Jean answered distractedly. "It's just something doesn't feel right, Sergei. My instincts led us here, but—"

Suddenly Sergei gasped and Jean spun around to face his friend. He noticed that Krum was looking up at the sky above. When Jean turned his head upwards, he saw what it was that took Sergei's breath away.

Streaking down from the cold black sky were the bright bodies of falling stars. Jean watched as the fiery orbs descended from the heavens. It was in that moment that he knew something was not right with the night sky. It was in that moment that he saw the darkly clad figures quickly descending down towards the rooftop on what looked like brooms. Sergei had still not seen the fast approaching figures, being so enchanted with the falling stars.

"_SERGEI, GET BACK TO THE DOOR_!" Jean screamed.

Stunned, Sergei turned towards Jean, his eyes wide in terror. Jean pushed him back towards the door, raising his gun up at the small formation now coming into view. It was five men flying V-formation at them. Jean took aim at the one at the apex of the formation. He just needed them to get a little closer. Fulver knew he could probably take out the lead man, but he didn't know if he would have time to take down the other four. He hoped that the protections that Vikious had talked about would hold.

All Fulver could do was put his body between Sergei and the incoming force. When they were close enough to see some of the features of their faces, Jean cocked his gun, and took aim, but before he could pull the trigger, the formation hit a barrier of some kind. A wall of blue light rippled outward from where they had hit the magical barrier. Jean sucked in a breath of relief. The group of men flew back and forth in front of the barrier, probing it, searching furiously for a way in.

Before Fulver could wrap his mind around the wall of light and the notion of flying brooms, one of the men pulled out a wand and pointed it at the barrier. The spell hit the shield and bounced off. Ripples of light undulated out from where the spell had hit. Jean noticed that the color of the barrier had faded a tiny bit.

Behind him he heard Sergei gasp in horror. Jean scuttled back towards his friend. He hoped the shield would hold. He hoped that they wouldn't find a spell that would drop it. Jean watched as the wizard in the lead flew a little ways down the wall pointed his wand at the shield again and screamed out another spell. It too hit the shield and bounced off. And once again circles of light rippled out from where the spell had hit, though they were slower and the wall was dimmer.

Jean knew it was only a matter of time before the barrier fell. He took aim at the lead wizard and took a shot. The blast reverberated throughout the night air and the bullet sped towards the magical wall and the wizard. It would have hit the man in the head, if it hadn't been deflected by the shield. The only effect it had on the situation was that it got the lead wizard's attention.

For the first time, Jean looked into the malevolent dark eyes of his enemy, which seemed to burn with the fires of hatred. The man was an older man, whose face was covered with a scraggly beard that was specked with gray. Frayed robes with a multitude of holes hung on his narrow frame loosely. Fulver watched as the vagabond moved a little further down the barrier. He barely noticed the other men, his focus on the one in the lead and was vaguely aware that they had formed a formation behind the lead wizard. The vagabond took aim, with a smile on his lips and a jet of red light streaked out from his wand and hit the barrier.

At first, nothing happened. The spell hit the magical wall and seemed to be absorbed by it. Then the hole began to form, and Jean watched in horror as the night sky and the falling stars began to become more clearer. Fulver raised his gun at the hole, taking aim. His hand was ready and his breaths were measured. Behind him, Sergei tried to stand at his side, his black eyes as hard as steel.

"No, Sergei! Stay behind me. No matter what they can't get you!' Jean responded, pushing Krum behind him. Fulver returned his attention back to the rapidly growing hole, his heart falling in his chest. It was like the very stars were slowly peeling back their last true defense.

When the hole was big enough for a man to pass through, the lead wizard zoomed in. Jean shot at him, but the wizard swerved out of the way of the bullet. He pointed his wand at the pair of men and shot a spell at them. Both Sergei and Jean hit the ground as the rock wall they had been standing in front of exploded leaving a gaping hole, the debris landing on and around them.

"Stop! Lord Grindelwald wants Sergei Krum alive and unharmed!" said a voice that Jean knew all to well. He couldn't believe who it was he knew had spoken and his anger began to rise in him. When he looked up, he saw that the formation of men had formed semi-circle around them.

Near the front of the circle, next to the lead wizard was none other than his former friend Marius, sitting unsteadily on a broom. He still didn't seem to have complete control of the device.

Jean Fulver and Sergei Krum scrambled to their feet as the semi-circle began to close in. Once again, Jean placed his body in front of Sergei, his weapon raised. His gun was the only defense left and he had every intention of using it. The question was who did he shoot first because he knew that the moment the bullet left the chamber, the other men would be on him.

Jean swiveled back and forth, the gun quickly switching from one man to another. Not once did he look at Marius. He couldn't bare to see the man who had betrayed him.

"If ve can't harm Krum, can we kiel the Muggle?" asked a young, blond haired wizard at Marius' side.

"No! Lord Grindelwald said that I will handle Jean!" Marius snapped.

Jean turned for the first time towards his friend and saw that Marius had a gun pointed at him. Fulver felt anger and a lash of pain at this betrayal roll through his body like a hot wild fire in the middle of summer, but he showed none of it on his face. Now was not the time to allow his emotions to control him. He continued to stand firmly in front of Sergei, though he knew he was on the losing end of this battle. Fulver knew he was outmatched. He had one gun and four wands pointed at him.

"It doesn't have to be like this, my friend," Marius stated quietly. "You could join us and live. You could share with me the incredible reward we will get when Lord Grindelwald gets what is his. All we want is Sergei Krum."

Jean noticed that Marius was perfectly in earnest. He truly believed that these men would let Fulver live if he stepped aside and let them take Sergei. He couldn't believe that his friend could be so foolish.

"It seems that it does have to be like this. We all must choose what side we fight on and I will not side with a man who wants to kill thousands of innocent people, Marius. So, I am staying where I am which is right here next to Sergei Krum. If you are not with us, then our friendship is over!" Jean growled.

He saw Marius' face pale in anger, his familiar temper flaring in his eyes.

"You always were more stubborn than what was good for you. I'm trying to save your life, Fulver, but you're willingly to sacrifice it for our enemy, a man you barely know!"

"Yeah, I guess I am. He has more character than you'll ever have!" Jean spat out.

Marius scowled in anger. Jean could see that the men behind Marius and the lead wizard were restlessly moving back and forth. They wanted this ended. They wanted blood.

"So be it!" Marius said tersely, the muscles in his face twitching.

Marius took a shot at Jean. Fulver pushed Sergei out the way, diving as he went, but he wasn't fast enough. The bullet nicked Fulver's shoulder and sent him sprawling. He managed to hold onto his gun.

Things quickly spiraled out of control from there. Jean retaliated and took a shot at Marius, who swerved. The bullet hit a wizard behind Marius in the chest and the man fell to the roof near Sergei wounded and dazed. Jean was struggling to get to his feet, with Sergei trying to help him up, but the lead wizard hit Jean with a spell that sent both men flying backwards.

Jean slammed into the wall near the door, pain radiating out from the wound in his shoulder. Fulver crumpled to the ground dazed with pain. Darkness edged his vision, but he pushed it aside with all of his will power. Jean's gun had fallen from his hands. All he knew was that he had to get to his gun. It was their last defense.

Sergei skidded into the ground and rolled. He stopped a few inches away from Jean's gun. Sergei screamed in anger as he picked up the gun and took aim, but he was not able to get a shot off. The wizards swooped in on him. They quickly disarmed him and tried to get a hold of him. Sergei lashed out, his fists smashing into the nearby wizard's face. Another wizard tried to conjure up silver chains to bind Sergei, but Krum ducked and dived, hitting and kicking wherever he could. He was not going to taken without a fight. It took all four wizards to hold him in one place long enough to place him under a stunning spell and bind his wrists.

Jean watched this in horror. He staggered to get up from where he had fallen, stumbling over to help his friend, but he didn't see Marius on the side of him. Marius struck out at Fulver, kicking him in the stomach. Fulver doubled over and then hit Marius in the ribcage as he strode over to hit Jean again. A furious fight broke out between the two former friends. Marius moved quickly around Jean, jabbing and kicking him where he could. He had always been faster than Jean, but Fulver had always been stronger, except now his strength was ebbing as his blood flowed freely from his wound on his shoulder. Sweat covered Jean's face, but he continued to fight, despite his pain, despite his losing grip on reality. He swung at Marius and made solid contact with his jaw.

All this did was anger Marius more. He swept Jean's legs out from under him. Fulver hit the ground hard. Black stars speckled his vision. His breath was becoming harder to catch. His body was enflamed, every nerve burning. Sweat trickled into his eyes and stung them. He avoided the kick Marius had aimed at his stomach and rolled away. Jean saw a flash of what was happening to Krum as he tried to stand.

Sergei was being carried over to a broom, and a spell was placed on him that bound him to the lead wizard. They were almost gone. Jean felt a new burst of energy run through his muscles. With everything he had left, he pushed himself to his knees, but before he could get to his feet, Marius had his chin in his hand.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way. You were always a good friend. Pity you couldn't see reason," Marius said before he brought his fist down onto Jean's nose, breaking it. Blood spread over Jean's face and Fulver collapsed to the ground. He felt the darkness slowly fall over him. The blood from his nose was sticky and warm and it flowed over his face and onto his jacket.

He watched in helpless anger as Marius strode over to his broom. The other wizards were already airborne, with Sergei securely behind the lead wizard. Before Jean succumbed to the darkness, he saw the group fly off, disappearing into the night. Before he blacked out, he saw the stars as they fell from the sky like celestial teardrops, tumbling down to their end.


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27: THE PAST RECLAIMED

_Light flickered across Jean's closed eyes and a warmth fell across his face, like veils of sunlit gossamer. A dull throbbing sensation covered his body, but was soon overcome by the rich smell of earth and flowers. Jean Fulver was a boy again, full of wonder and idealistic hopes. Jean sat under the trees listening to the soft tinkling of the nearby stream. He could hear the birds as they twittered away in the branches above. Jean felt the sticky residue of blackberries that was smeared over his face._

_He and Marius had gone to a little stream nearby and had pretended they were great sea captains and commanded the entire stream. That was when they had stumbled upon the blackberry patch that grew wild near the river. Together they had filled their tiny hands with the berries and had taken them to the water's edge. The berries were warm from the summer sun and the juices succulent. They laughed heartily, telling wild tales of pirates and damsels in distress, each building off the other as they ate their berries. _

_A small breeze lifted off the river and the two boys, once their stomachs were full, lay back on the damp, packed ground of the bank. The coolness of the ground and the protective shade of the trees that overhung the river felt good on their backs. The yellow sun speckled their faces as it shone through the leaves. They stared up into the blue sky, in wonder at its vastness. What moved the clouds? What made the sun shine down just so to make the river sparkle as if a thousand golden stars lay underneath? Who blew the breeze that caressed their sticky faces? And what made the silence between them peaceful, the silence of two friends looking at the world in awe? All those questions ran through Jean's mind and yet their answers didn't seem important. Everything was as it was supposed to be. With his friend at his side, everything was perfect. _

"Why won't the wound stop bleeding? What happened?"

The voice shot through Jean's mind. He knew it sounded familiar, knew he should try to reach out to that voice, but he was content where he was, which was on the cool bank of the river under the warm summer sky.

"Albus, we have to get him to the infirmary. We have to find a way to stop the bleeding!"

The words trailed off in Jean's mind as he drifted off again in the stream of his memories.

_Jean stood outside the gates of the stone gray academy, trembling in anger and on the verge of tears. He looked down on his uniform, in particular the part where his mother had had to sew up a rip in the jacket. His mother and father did all they could to keep him in this school, but it never seemed to be enough, not to the students. They all had the newest books and the newest jackets because they all came from the most aristocratic and influential families. That was the way it had always been. And the Academy boys had made it clear that Jean was not accepted, that he was an outsider, an imposter. His parents were of the middle class and thus he was not worthy to be here._

_More than ever did Jean want to go back to the small country school he had been in, back to its simplicity. He knew that his parents would be disappointed and a sudden guilt filled him. His parents worked so hard to keep him in this place, sacrificing everything for him. He knew he should be grateful for their sacrifice, but it was hard for him to escape the hateful words that the other boys had called him. He wanted to be far from these dull walls and people._

_Jean kicked a nearby rock with scorn and resolved never to come back to this hateful place again. As he did so, a new boy ran up to the gate. He was dressed as pristinely as the others, with the newest shoes and jacket and yet he had a wildness to him that no amount of refinement could tame. His green eyes locked on Jean and Fulver felt a need to hold in his tears and straighten himself up. He was not going to allow another one of these Academy boys bully him around._

_The boy with the green eyes and brown, messy curls came striding over, a faint smile hovering over his lips._

_"Are you late as well?" the boy asked Jean. Jean, not knowing what to say or if he could trust this newcomer, shook his head._

_"Well then, why are you out here? I can see by your uniform that you belong here. They'll give us switches to be sure if we don't get in before anyone notices we're late! Come on, let's go in together!" The boy held out his hand, a large smile covering his face. "Hello, my name is Marius."_

_Jean shook Marius' hand and was glad to have a friend. The moment their hands touched, a keening pain ripped through him, setting his nerve endings on fire._

"Careful with how you move him, Albus! He is losing too much blood as it is!"

Jean felt his eyes flutter open to look up into the diamond studded sky above, all those thousands of worlds. Their light shone down on him, on the horrible pain that racked his body and he felt a terrible realization waited for him in this world of starlight. He didn't want to face that horror. So he closed his eyes again, but before he did, he heard a familiar voice say:

"Wolfbane, I think I just saw his eyes open! There's still hope for him. We need to get him to the infirmary now!"

Jean faded back into the world of his memories.

_He was running through the woods with Marius just ahead of him. Behind them, a farmer was giving chase. They had been pretending to hunt big game in his fields and were trampling his crops. They were running to their hidden fort deep within the woods. Dappled sunlight fell through the trees, covering Marius, who was up ahead, in shades of light and dark. He was always in the lead, always ahead. Jean followed his friend, who fearlessly plunged forward. It was always like this. Marius led and Jean followed. Marius planned and Jean executed. _

_"He'll never catch us because we're invincible and no one can catch the invincible!" Marius said as he turned towards Jean, flushed with excitement and the thrill of their adventure. Marius laughed wildly and sped up._

_Jean felt the sting of the foliage as the bushes slapped his arms and face. He felt his heart pump madly in his chest and tasted his sweat as he ran. He ignored it all. Jean felt unbreakable at that moment, a wild and reckless abandon coursing through his veins. He was young and free and all the world was open to him. There wasn't anything he couldn't do and he ran with the wind of bold ideas pushing him forward._

"Hurry, Albus. We don't have much time. He's growing paler by the minute. He's slipping!" A voice growled.

Jean felt his body move faster, but his mind couldn't reconcile what it was his body was feeling. His body seemed to be floating, though his mind couldn't understand how that could be.

"I know, Wolfbane! We only have a few more flights to get down—Frederick, what are you doing here?"

Jean felt his body lurch to a halt.

_Jean was in his father's study, running his hands over the smooth surfaces of the shelves his father had made. His small fingers marveled at the different textures under them. He loved the deep grooves of the wood, so intricate and so unique. He loved the differing shades of color. And most importantly, he loved the sanctity of this room, as if the wood was wise and knowing. If he looked close enough, the shelves told a story._

_In every piece of wood he saw, there was a history, a past. Some of the planks had lived for hundreds of years. They had seen the rise and fall of empires, a thousand sunsets and a thousand magnificent sunrises. They had seen the birth of new life and the death of old._

_Jean brought his nose closer to the planks and inhaled the fragrance as he had seen his father do so many times before. Maybe he would be able to catch a glimpse of the past, feel a shadow of the great heroes. Maybe he could see a glimmer of the beauty that his father saw. _

_For carpentry was not a profession that his father only deigned to work, but one that his father was born to do. It was an art. His father saw beauty when others saw a log or a plank. Jean's fingers continued down the shelves and landed on the large desk made of mahogany. A certain joy came out of touching what his father had created._

_"Jean, what are you doing here?" asked his father warmly from the doorway of the study. "Shouldn't you be out in the sunshine with your friend?"_

_Jean turned to his father, who was a tall, lean man with a shock of white blond hair and kind, brown eyes._

_"I'm happy here with you!"_

"I'm here to check that the castle is clear. What happened?" Frederick asked sternly, but then quickly continued before an answer could be given. "I heard that several people spotted a group of wizards on brooms leaving the Astronomy Tower. It seems we now know what Professor Vikious was doing on the tower. I suspect he was creating a hole in the castle's protection."

"We don't know anything as of now. The only person who does know is Jean and he will die if we don't get him to the infirmary!" said an older and wiser voice. Jean connected the voice with a name: Albus.

"Oh, I'm sure he does know what happened. In fact, I think he handed Sergei Krum over to his counterpart, the person he has been communicating with outside of Hogwarts. I warned you that we can't trust Muggles—"

Jean felt his pain flare up in him. He groaned and his eyes fluttered open. He saw snatches of light, though they weren't sharp and pure as the starlight, but warm and golden. The light came from candles fixed in black brackets on the worn, gray stone walls. The candles spelled him into a drowsy acceptance of his situation and he began to lose more and more grasp of where he was.

"We don't have time for this! MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, FREDERICK, OR I'LL MAKE YOU MOVE!" roared a voice he suddenly remembered. It was Wolfbane and he was more of a friend to Jean than he had ever known before.

Frederick must have stepped aside because Jean felt his body begin to move again.

_Jean looked down into his father's grave. He held back his tears because he was now the man in the family and the man of the family was not allowed to cry. His mother leaned her head on his shoulder and wept openly. He held her close and all the while the agony of his grief remained trapped in his chest and throat. Hot tears stung the edge of his eyes, but he held them back with every inch of will in him. He could not break down. Not now, when his mother needed his strength. _

_The sun shone brightly down and the sky was wide and perfect. Jean hated the cheerfulness, hated the light at that moment. His stony, blue eyes looked down into the dark grave and knew that eventually all life would lead to this place. Jean turned his head away, unable to bear the idea of his father being buried forever in that dark, lonely place. His father was not that still, cold form in the coffin. His father had been full of life and had created true beauty. Yet now, the only consolation to Jean was that his father would be buried in a mahogany coffin. He would be encased forever in the wood's embrace and Jean took comfort in the knowledge that his father was being buried with one of his true loves. As Jean turned away he saw Marius at his side, his head bowed in respect. _

_He was glad his friend was there with him, but he knew that their friendship could never be the same. Jean could feel a change inside him, had felt it the moment his father had passed. He was no longer as reckless or as carefree as he used to be. Jean had faced the realization that nothing was invincible, nothing lasted. What was once so full of energy and joy could be gone the very next day. He learned that life was fragile and that he had taken it for granted for too long. Marius would never understand because he still believed that neither the world nor death would ever catch them. For Jean, that fantasy was now gone and he could see reality as it was: everything must come to an end; the life of a loving father must end and eventually, even a friendship._

"What happened, Albus?" called out a soft, warm female voice.

"He was shot!" Wolfbane answered loudly. Those words rang throughout Jean's mind and he knew that something terrible was on the edge of his memory.

"By what spell? Where?" the woman asked.

By now, Jean felt his body land gently on a soft surface.

"No spell. He was shot by a Muggle weapon in the shoulder up on the Astronomy Tower. Marigold, we need to stop the bleeding!" said Albus.

"I don't know anything about healing wounds caused by Muggle weapons. I wouldn't know the first thing to do!"

"I do," Wolfbane answered quickly.

"You do?" Albus asked, a puzzlement filling his voice.

"I was shot once. Luckily it looks as if the bullet only hit Fulver in the shoulder. We need to dig the bullet out and then we can heal the wound, but we have to do it quickly. Fulver doesn't have much time left!"

"Will you be able to pull the bullet out, Wolfbane?" Albus asked.

There was a pause and a ragged breathing as if Wolfbane was in physical pain of some kind.

"I can't, Albus. I'm on the verge of transforming and his warm blood on my hands will only change me faster. I'm sorry my friend. I'm not fully in control of my ability right now. You'll have to do it, but I can advise you!"

"Okay Marigold, I'm going to need you to find something to numb his pain." Jean heard the whisper of Marigold's robes as she moved away from him. "Wolfbane, I'm going to need all the advice you can give because I have never done this before," Albus said nervously.

Jean closed his eyes and slipped away again.

_When Jean opened his eyes, he was still in a graveyard, but the scene had changed drastically. Instead of blue skies and warm sunlight, a thick coat of snow covered the ground and headstones. A bitter cold wind raked over him. Instead of looking down into one grave, he was looking down into two, one much smaller than the other. His mother no longer leaned on his shoulder and his friends and family were no longer at his side. Instead standing by his side alone in the sharp, metallic cold, was a stout man with a thick beard covering his face. His eyes were red and his body was hunched over in pain. His grief overwhelmed him and shook his body._

_The man turned towards him and Jean suddenly remembered who he was. Sergei Krum was in pain, tears falling freely from his eyes. Fulver felt his heart clench as a growing realization filled his mind as to whose graves he was looking at._

_Sergei turned and searched Jean's face for answers._

_"They're gone, Jean. My wife and son are gone!"_

_A sudden pain ripped through Fulver's heart and spread upwards into his shoulder. A terrible knot of guilt and sorrow threatened to close off his throat. Jean wanted to scream out, but felt the scream catch in his chest, burning inside him. Fulver looked down at his hands and saw that they were covered in blood, though he knew it was not his own._

_He knew that he was responsible for their deaths and he suddenly remembered one name: Marius. The instant that name lit in his mind, a terrible anger began to broil inside him. It shook his body as it slowly welled up in him._

"Marigold, you gave him something for the pain, right?" Albus asked, a tremor marking his words.

"Yes, but he keeps shaking. I don't know what else to give him. Albus, you need to get that Muggle object out fast!"

_The growing anger had turned into a rushing river of rage, coursing through Fulver's body. It burned every recent memory like molten lava. With his eyes closed, he could barely feel the wintry cold of the graveyard. All he could see was the truth as his recent memories came hurtling back to him, scalding his mind and fueling the river inside him._

_When he opened his eyes he was back on the Astronomy Tower roof. The stars were falling and Sergei was nearly gone, incapacitated and being loaded onto a broom._

_Jean was on his knees, a terrible pain burning his shoulder. He knew he was mortally wounded, knew that his energy was flagging. Jean looked up into Marius' face as his former friend held his chin, and a terrible, dark feeling eclipsed everything else around him._

_"I'm sorry it had to be this way. You were always a good friend. Pity you couldn't see reason," Marius said. _

_Jean knew what was coming as Marius raised his fist, but the moment he felt the crunch of his nose, the pain of this betrayal reverberated throughout his entire body. _

"Marigold, hand me something to stop the bleeding! Wolfbane, I got the bullet out. What do we do next and Wolfbane, why won't he stop shaking?" Albus roared, a panic growing with his words.

_Jean was sprinting through the forest of his youth again, but everything had changed. What was once green and alive was now brown and withering away. What had once been large trees, now were thin specters of their former selves. Jean felt his anger push him forward as he ran through the forest, dodging this way and that, heedless of everything around except one thing. His prey flitted ahead, just out of his reach. Marius had always been faster than him, but Jean had what Marius did not; he had endurance and perseverance. Jean sped up, his lithe movements moving through the forest like a shadow, unheard and unseen._

"Albus, I'm not sure why he's still shaking! There must be something else going on that we are not aware of. Marigold, you have to heal the wound now before too much more blood is lost!" Wolfbane answered.

_Jean ran out of the dead forest into blinding sunlight. He stumbled a bit due to the disorientation, but was soon back on his single-minded course, the anger in him just below the surface. The hot sun beat down and the air was thick with humid moisture. Mosquitoes buzzed around his face. Ahead of him lay a river, the same river of his boyhood, but like the forest it was different. The trees were gone, with only shorn trunks in their place as proof of their existence. The blackberry bushes were gone and the river was a tired, muddy brown, lacking the ebullience of his youth._

_Marius jumped into the dirty water and waded across the shore. Jean ran up to the bank as Marius reached the other side of the river. The two men stopped and looked at each other for the first time. A hatred burned out of the eyes of Jean and a rampant fear spilled out of the eyes of Marius. Only the river separated them, but Jean knew it was so much more than that. Different beliefs, different moral codes and different journey's ahead of them were what really separated them now and there was no going back to their former friendship. Marius opened his mouth to speak, but Jean knew there was nothing his former friend could say that would be acceptable to him. Fulver pulled out his gun and as he did so, so did Marius._

_The two men stood on either side of this dark river, guns drawn and far from the life they had once known. Jean felt all of his doubt and empathy for Marius burn away, the dark beast inside him taking over. Jean pulled the trigger, but Marius had disappeared and Fulver's bullet hit a tree on the other side of the river._

_Jean screamed out in rage, letting all of his anger explode out of him._

_Marius may have won this battle, but he would pay for his actions. Jean knew that soon the two former friends now enemies would no longer be able to hide from what they had done. Sooner or later, Marius would have to face Fulver's wrath._

"Albus, why is he screaming like that?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment as he looked down on the ferocity he saw on Fulver's face. The Muggle writhed and struggled as Wolfbane and Albus tried to hold him down. Though Jean's shoulder wound was healed by magic, Albus still wasn't sure if the wound wouldn't open up again.

Dumbledore tried to think of spells and remedies he could give Fulver to calm him, to stop the violent thrashing of his body. Jean's veins in his neck and head throbbed, his face was flushed and the roar of his voice ricocheted off the walls. He bucked and writhed and it took a lot of energy for Albus and Johnny to hold him down.

Just as Albus tried to come up with a logical conclusion for this, Jean suddenly fell silent and his body dropped limply back down on the hospital bed. A hush fell as Wolfbane, Dumbledore and Marigold looked at each other in utter shock. Tentatively, Wolfbane reached out and touched the side of Jean's neck with two fingers. Albus wasn't exactly sure what his friend was doing, but then Wolfbane let out a breath of relief.

"He's still alive, though his pulse is weak. I have no idea what it is that happened just now, but at least he is alive. He should sleep, but we need him awake soon. Albus, have you alerted your Ministry of Magic as to what has happened?"

"The Headmaster sent an owl to them straight away about Sergei. The Ministry have contacts in and outside of England. Hopefully those wizards won't get far with Krum, but I fear Grindelwald has other plans of transport for Sergei and— Wolfbane, Fulver's just opened his eyes!"

All eyes looked down on the Muggle, who though weak, stared back at them fiercely.

**A/N:** Thank you for reading this story. I'm so sorry it took so long to finish this chapter. This chapter was a little more difficult to write due to its content and a busy RL. I also wanted to let everyone know that the next chapter will be the end of The Traveler's Secret, but don't worry, this story will continue on in its sequel, On the Road to Nuremgard, which is currently in the planning stages. Let me know if you see any mistakes and thank you again!


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28: DIVERGENCE

Dumbledore stared out the wide window in the Headmaster's office, a weariness settling on his shoulders. Darkness was swallowing the land as the last weak rays of sunlight slowly and painfully fell below the horizon in the west. A tremor rippled through him as he thought of two friends in the east about to start a journey across a war torn continent, a journey he feared would be their last. And as he thought those gloomy thoughts, he remembered the fleeting sunset. Though it was disappearing on the horizon, the sun's last light still lingered there. It was a small accomplishment, but in a world that was growing darker, that last glimmer of light could change everything.

"Albus, have they gone? Have the Muggle and American left Hogwarts?" Headmaster Dippet asked, his voice quiet as if he were afraid he would awake the dead.

Armando Dippet paced behind Dumbledore, a cloud of worry hanging on his stooped shoulders. Too much had happened in the past twenty-four hours. In just a day, one teacher had been found to be a traitor and was killed because of it. Enemy combatants had been within the walls of Hogwarts and killed their caretaker. But what was worse than all of that combined was the kidnapping of Sergei Krum, a man who carried a secret that could kill them all if it fell into enemy hands and just last night it had.

"Is the Muggle… is he all right to travel?" Armando asked, skirting around the real question he wanted an answer to, a question Albus already knew would eventually be asked.

"Jean Fulver is incredibly resilient or bullheaded. It depends on how you want to look on the situation."

Headmaster Dippet paused behind Albus, his silence heavy in the room as he tried to think of what way it was best for him to ask his urgent question. Albus sighed. He knew what was coming.

"Can we trust him, Albus? The fate of our world now lays in the hands of a Muggle. How do we know that he won't betray us, even if the American is with him?"

"I trust him, Headmaster. If you can trust my judgment, then you can trust him. He may be the only one that can help us!"

"How is that?" Armando asked, as confusion clouded his aged face.

Albus turned from the window, his head wrinkled in worry.

"Headmaster, Jean Fulver was a Muggle spy as was his friend, the one who kidnapped Sergei. He knows of contacts on the continent and in the Muggle world that we have no way of knowing and he says he is absolutely certain he can track his friend. Without his knowledge and skills, I'm certain that Sergei Krum will disappear into the Muggle world and we will have no way of finding him."

Armando stopped pacing, his eyes searching Albus' face as he asked, "But Albus, how can you be sure that Grindelwald won't just use magical means like Disapparation to get Sergei to him? Why do you think that he will hide Sergei in the Muggle world?"

"Because it is more complicated than we originally thought. We both know that we have our own spies hidden amongst Grindelwald's camp of followers, as last I heard from the French Ministry of Magic. I believe that Grindelwald knows that he has moles in his ranks and won't risk bringing Sergei Krum anywhere near his encampments until he can flush out those moles. Why else would he use a Muggle to kidnap Sergei Krum in the first place?"

"Merlin, Albus, if he knows that there may be spies amongst his own people, then things are going to get very dangerous very soon. He managed to plant a spy here amongst my own staff and now you tell me that those who are deep undercover in his organization may soon be exposed? Does the French Ministry of Magic know that their people may be in danger?"

Albus massaged his head as the beginnings of a terrible headache slowly crept on him. He had been feeling tired and on edge all day, but he still had no idea why. He had gotten plenty of sleep and food. Even as he tried to answer the Headmaster, a sudden fear pounced on him, but he had no idea where it was coming from.

"Yes…they know," Albus stuttered. His heart was racing, but there was nothing there to make it race. "Right now, the French Ministry of Magic has gone underground. They are not in the position to pull their people out. My contacts in our own Ministry has told me that we are doing all we can to help them. When they got the news of Sergei Krum's' kidnapping, the English Ministry of Magic did their best to lock down the coast by all magical means, but they know very little of Muggle transportation and means of travel. That is where Jean Fulver can help us the most. He says he has a very good idea which route his friend will use. We can safely guess that his friend is taking Sergei to Grindelwald's stronghold, Nuremgard and that…"

Albus suddenly gasped and screamed out in fright as he fell to his knees. Darkness covered his eyes and a deathly cold filled his lungs. He struggled to breathe and felt a salty breeze sting his nose and eyes. As quickly as the strange occurrence happened, it was over, leaving Albus panting on the floor of the Headmaster's office. A sudden understanding of what was happening to him came over him, though he wasn't quite sure of the details yet. Armando Dippet leaned down next to him, a terrified look on his face.

"Albus, are you all right? What happened?" He asked.

Albus took a moment to calm his heart. He had never felt such a terrible fear and anguish as he felt at that moment. He gritted his teeth to push the sledgehammer of those feelings out of his mind.

"The spell I put on Sergei Krum is what happened. That is why I'm still here and not with Fulver and Wolfbane tracking Sergei down. I haven't been completely honest with you, Headmaster. I haven't told you the full extent of the work I did on Sergei Krum and this information must never leave this room. It is, as Muggles like to say, the one ace we have up our sleeve."

Armando Dippet stood suddenly, an anger simmering in his eyes, but also a fear.

"What have you done, Albus?"

Albus gingerly stood, his head throbbing and the smell of salt still stinging his nose.

"I told you that it was impossible to separate the blueprints from Sergei Krum without killing him. He will have to live the rest of his life with those horrible plans inside him and he will have to die alone because if anyone he loves is near him when he dies, his death will enact the Krum family spell and cause a horrible explosion. It is his curse to bear. Grindelwald does not know any of this yet, but I have a feeling that he will soon find this out. He has spies everywhere.

What I did was disguise the blueprints with indecipherable gibberish. The only person who can decipher the gibberish is me. In order to keep the blueprints disguised, I have to maintain the complex spell that I have started, feed it energy and control it. I can only do that here. This you know already. What I haven't told you is that the complex, experimental spell I used linked me to Sergei Krum, a fact that I have just become aware of once Sergei left the boundary of the school's protective spells, which probably dampened the spell's effects. I, apparently, can catch fleeting glimpses of what he is feeling, especially if he is really distressed, as well as see what he sees, hear what he hears and smell what he smells. This was an unexpected side affect and one I'm not sure of the full repercussions," Albus finished. He felt a sudden gnawing hunger in his stomach, a feeling that was soon gone and one that had not been his own.

Armando Dippet stared at his Transfiguration teacher in abject horror.

"Albus, you are messing with very dangerous magic! What happens if he is killed? Will it kill you as well?"

An icy shock of fear flooded Albus. He hadn't thought of that possibility and now that the idea was in front of him, he couldn't turn away from that cruel truth. Albus suddenly knew what Sergei had felt all these long months. It was terrible sensing a dark scythe of doom hanging over your head, waiting for the simplest of catalysts to start its downward plunge. And what was worse was the uncertainty Albus felt. For he had no real answer to the question that the Headmaster had asked him and that unknown variable terrified him more than he would ever admit.

"I'm not sure, Headmaster," Albus answered as calmly as he could. "I do know that I can bear this burden. I will bear it. It may help us if I can tell where Sergei is. Right now he is somewhere near the coast, cold, hungry and in a very dark place. I would check out all the Muggle ships that are leaving the ports," Albus concluded.

The Headmaster was silent for a moment and Albus knew he was still very uncertain about this new development in the situation. There was nothing that Albus could do now about it. Whatever happened would happen and it was how they handled crisis that showed what they were really made of.

"Albus, I'm worried about you, about how close you are to Krum, but there isn't much we can do now. For now, all we can do is wait. The Ministry is already attempting to contact our undercover agents and if there is danger, extract them. It's strange that it should come to this, that a Muggle may be our greatest hope. We live in dark times, Albus and I fear it will only get darker."

Albus turned from the Headmaster, towards the open window. The last of the setting sun had disappeared and the land long since swallowed up in darkness.

"Yes, it will only get darker, but Headmaster, there is always hope and that hope is already on the road to Nuremgard."

******************

Thick, mauve tinted clouds scudded across the color splashed evening sky. The last rays of golden sunlight broke through the tremulously shifting sky. A brisk sea breeze rolled up off the ocean and ruffled Jean Fulver's hair. The cold brought the ache out in his shoulder. Pain radiated down his arm, but he ignored it all. His focus was on the coastline across the channel. The coast of France to be exact, his beloved country. The sunlight was nearly gone from its shore, steeped in the growing darkness that had fallen over it like a ravenous wolf.

A sudden pain stabbed through him, starting out from his heart. Though he had had the bullet taken out of his shoulder and his wounds healed, there was a pain that was much worse than the ache in his shoulder, a betrayal that he couldn't easily forget about. It sat like a solid rock in his chest, a fire he knew would only be alleviated when he had finished his dark task. He had one goal in mind, just one, and that was to catch Marius and save Sergei. He would tromp through the entire Nazi infested continent, lie to who he had to, steal, cheat and even kill to stop Marius. This was their last game, the last violent act of a black play and Jean would see it through. Inside, a seedling of anger and hatred glowed, slowly taking root over his heart. Jean Fulver gingerly shifted the pack on his shoulder, wincing as he did so.

Behind him Johnny Wolfbane paced. He was tense, his shoulders set like tightly wound springs and the air around him charged with lethality. Ever since Sergei had been taken, Wolfbane had been a walking time bomb. This was good. They would need every bit of rage, every last morsel of strength and resolve to see their goal through. Ahead lay a dangerous battlefield of shifting alliances and deadly intentions. For Jean, there was no going back to the life they had known, not once this journey was taken, but it still made him a little nervous to see a man who could turn into a bear this high strung, even if it could aid them.

"When will the plane be here?" Wolfbane snapped.

"My contact at the SOE said that the plane will come just after sunset. He will be here!" Jean stated confidently.

Johnny Wolfbane grumbled some sort of sarcastic comment that Jean could barely make out. Wolfbane's restless pacing was starting to wear on Jean and the French soldier wondered on it. Was it the dangerous journey that they were about to embark on that made Wolfbane spark at any provocation or was it the fact that they were about to get on a plane that would fly them over France in the dead of the night with enemy planes in the air and from which they would have to parachute down to the ground?

"Is there a problem, Woflbane? If there is, I need to know it now!" Jean said tersely.

Wolfbane stopped next to Jean and Fulver could see that the man was not completely in control of his ability at the moment, a fact that was becoming more worrisome to Fulver as the evening wore on. Wolfbane's skin was oscillating between his normal brown and the black color of a bear. His fingers clenched and unclenched nervously at his side. Wolfbane shifted his eyes away as he answered Jean.

"There's nothing wrong. It's just…I'm not particularly fond of flying!"

Jean could feel his laughter slowly rising up out of his throat, an uncontrollable and maniacal urge that was bitter as it was sweet. Jean knew that he wasn't going to have a lot of opportunities to laugh on this trip and he took it when he could, though it earned him a murderous glare from Wolfbane.

"You… are a afraid of flying? You, the man who can turn into any creature including a bird, are afraid of flying?" Jean's laughter had reached his mouth and he quickly shut it to keep the emotion from getting out.

"I'm not afraid of flying," Wolfbane growled in response. "I'm just not particularly fond of getting in a metal contraption where if one part breaks, the entire plane crashes down into tiny, fiery pieces!"

Jean was just about to make a witty comment that was sure to get a rise out Wolfbane, when he heard the whine of an approaching engine slicing through the early night air. The sun was completely gone by now and clouds now rolled across the starlit sky.

As the plane circled and got closer and closer to the ground, Jean wandered back to Sergei and Marius. He wondered if they had already reached the other side of the shore, if their journey had already begun, but mostly he wondered if Sergei was safe. He couldn't be dead yet. They would have noticed an explosion of the sort of magnitude that came from his predicament. No, he was still alive and that gave Fulver hope that they would find him.

The roar of the plane's engine engulfed the two men as it touched down with ease and rolled to a stop through the open field they stood in. It was one of the many secret pickup points that the SOE had set aside for this exact purpose.

The SOE's (British Special Operations Executive) main goal was to cause chaos on the Nazi controlled continent and upset the plans of the enemy. They trained civilians to fight, smuggled weapons, people and messages onto the continent, as well as spies. Jean had a contact at the SOE F-section (France Section), who could get them on the next available plane that made a drop in France. Since the seas were compromised, that left only the air and of course, parachutes. With a little luck and a lot of providence, they would hopefully land near the safe house in Châteauroux and meet up with their contact on the continent.

Jean turned to Wolfbane as he asked, "If you're so afraid of flying, how are you going to handle jumping out of the plane?"

A mischievous grin covered Wolfbane's face, "I plan on walking up to the open door and jumping out. What are you planning to do?"

"No parachute?" Jean asked incredulously as they began to walk towards the plane, whose cargo bay doors lay wide open.

"As you said before, I can turn into a bird. Do you really think I need one?" Wolfbane answered, that grin on his face mocking Fulver.

Jean smirk, but didn't answer. He knew better than to answer and the two men walked towards the plane in silence. Just before they boarded, Fulver turned once more towards the direction they had come from, towards the school that was hidden behind walls of magical protection. Maybe one day he would be able to go back. As Jean got onto the plane and felt it's engine sputter to life, he knew he would never be back and a part of him was a little sad. A part of him would remember those spelled halls, but that was not his world. He belonged in this one.

Jean felt the plane begin to move, its metal frame shaking all around them and beneath them. The smell of oil and dust blanketed the Spartan interior of the cargo hold. He had been handed a parachute as he had boarded, which sat nestled in between his feet. At his side, Wolfbane's fingers were twitching nervously, drumming on his jittering knees. All he had was one pack at his feet and it wasn't a parachute. Fulver could hardly believe that Wolfbane was really going to jump out of a moving plane with no parachute. Jean shook his head.

The plane began to gain speed, its interior shuddering all around them. When it lurched to get airborne, Jean could hear Wolfbane's breath catch in his throat. He smiled a private smile, but said nothing. Instead, he looked out the small porthole near his face at the disappearing coast below. A calm fell over him as if the certainty of knowing he may be on his last mission, his last long trek, had brought a gentle composure to his mind. The time of conspiracy, shifting loyalties and deadly intentions lay ahead of him.

A time of reckoning was upon them.

**A/N:** Thank you for reading this story and I'm so sorry for the late update. I had quite a writer's block for this and I had to do some research. That is no excuse, I know, but I hope you won't kill me with pitchforks slowly for it. This has not been edited as much as I normally edit it, so if you see any mistakes or any historical inaccuracies, please let me know. I'm not completely satisfied with the ending, so any feedback on this will be extremely helpful. I keep contemplating putting the Albus part second. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Also, I will be posting up a snippet soon of the sequel, On the Road to Nuremgard.

Thanks again!


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